^W 

m 

m 

s 

1 

1 

^m\ 

1 

i 

B 

Hj 

■t'.i 


-3UA« 


Columbia  ©nitJer^ftp 

THE  LIBRARIES 


Bequest  of 

Frederic  Bancroft 

1860-1945 


<J-VI^ 


oA 


^^tx-ua-lM 


PIONEERS    OF    RELIGIOUS 
LIBERTY   IN   AMERICA 


PIONEERS    OF    RELIGIOUS 
LIBERTY    IN   AMERICA 


Being  the  Great  and  Thursday- 
Lectures  delivered  in  Boston 
in  nineteen  hundred  and  three 


BOSTON 
AMERICAN  UNITARIAN  ASSOCIATION 


Copyright  igo3 
American  Unitarian  Association 


V 

^ 


TO 
JANE    NORTON    GREW 

AND 

HENRIETTA    GODDARD    FITZ 

WHO    MADE    THESE    LECTURES 
POSSIBLE 


PREFACE. 

Two  hundred  and  seventy-two  years  ago, 
John  Cotton,  minister  of  the  First  Church  in 
Boston,  with  the  co-operation  of  his  ministerial 
associates,  established  what  soon  came  to  be 
known  as  the  "  Great  and  Thursday  Lecture." 
This  weekly  lecture  was  in  colonial  times  the 
chief  social  and  religious  event  in  Boston.  In 
1775  ^^  ^^^  discontinued;  but  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  siege  of  Boston  it  was  revived,  and  has 
since  had  a  continuous  existence.  It  has  been 
the  occasion  for  the  discussion  of  public  affairs 
as  well  as  matters  of  theological  interest.  It  is 
probably  a  unique  institution  in  American  life. 

With    the    aid    of    two     helpful     friends,    the 

American  Unitarian  Association  has  been  able  to 

unite  with  the  minister  and  Standing  Committee 

of  the    First    Church  to  carry  forward    on    this 

ancient    foundation    a    course    of    lectures    upon 

Religious    Liberty   in  America.     These    lectures 

have  attracted  so  much  public  interest  that  they 

are  now  published  by  the  Association  for  larger 

circulation. 

Samuel  A.  Eliot. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


I.      William  Brewster  and  the  Indepen- 
dents.    By  Edwin  D.  Mead    ...  3 
II.     Roger  Williams  and  his  Doctrine  of 
Soul  Liberty.     By  W.  H.  P.  Faunce, 

D.D.,  LL.D 49 

III.      Thomas    Hooker    and    the    Principle 

OF  Congregational   Independency. 

By  Williston  Walker,  D.D.      ...        85 

IV.     William    Penn    and   the    Gospel   of 

the  Inner  Light.     By  Benjamin  B. 

Trueblood,  LL.D 125 

V.  Thomas  Jefferson  and  the  Influ- 
ence OF  Democracy  upon  Religion. 
By  Thomas  R.  Slicer,  M.A.  ...  161 
VI.  William  Ellery  Channing  and  the 
Growth  of  Spiritual  Christian- 
ity. By  William  W.  Fenn  .  .  .  187 
VII.  Horace  Bushnell  and  Progressive  Or- 
thodoxy.    By  Washington  Gladden, 

D.D 227 

VIII.     Hosea  Ballou  and  the  Larger  Hope. 

By  John  Coleman  Adams,  D.D.    .     .      267 


X  CONTENTS 


PAGE 


IX.      Ralph    Waldo      Emerson     and     the 
Doctrine    of    the    Divine    Imma- 
nence.   By  Francis  G.  Peabody,  D.D.     307 
X.     Theodore  Parker  and  the  Natural- 
ization OF  Religion.    By  James  Eells     343 

XI.     Phillips  Brooks  and  the  Unity  of  the 

Spirit.      By  Samuel  A.    Eliot,  D.D.      369 


William  Brewster  and  the  Independents 


Q 


WILLIAM    BREWSTER   AND    THE 
INDEPENDENTS. 

Puritanism  is  one  of  the  cardinal  words  in  the 
history  of  the  EngHsh  race.  The  Puritan  move- 
nlent  was  the  new  birth  of  England.  It  was  the 
religious  and  political  equivalent  of  the  brilliant 
flowering  of  English  genius  in  the  Elizabethan 
age.  It  should  have  been  contemporary  with 
that ;  but  it  was  held  back  for  a  generation  by 
royal  and  ecclesiastical  tyranny,  only  to  come 
with  the  greater  energy  when  it  did  come.  The 
new  birth  of  England,  it  was  the  birth  of  New 
England.  The  same  great  movement  planted 
New  England  and  created  the  English  Common- 
wealth. The  leaders  there  and  here  were  actuated 
by  the  same  motives  and  working  for  the  same 
great  ends.  One  and  the  same  spirit  was  in  Sir 
John  Eliotj  Hampden,  Pym,  Cromwell,  Milton, 
and  Vane,  and  in  Bradford,  Brewster,  Winthrop, 
Cotton,  Hooker,  and  Roger  Williams.  It  was 
largely  accident  which  determined  who  should  stay 
there  and  who  should  come  here.  "  New  Eng- 
land," says  Maurice,  *'  was  a  translation  into  prose 
of  the  dreams  which  haunted  Milton  his  whole  life 
long."     Massachusetts  was  a  refuge,  provided  in 


4  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

the  storm  and  stress,  to  which  thousands  more 
of  Puritans  would  have  come,  had  their  struggle 
in  England  fared  worse  than  it  did.  The  influ- 
ence of  Puritanism  upon  the  English  race  and 
upon  the  politics  of  the  world  was  permanent  and 
profound.  "  The  whole  history  of  English  prog- 
ress since  the  Restoration,  on  its  moral  and  spirit- 
ual sides,"  says  Green  in  his  "  History  of  the 
English  People,"  "has  been  the  history  of  Puri- 
tanism "  ;  and  Borgeaud,  writing  in  Calvin's  city, 
describes  the  Puritan  movement  under  the  title 
of  "  The  Rise  of  Modern  Democracy  in  Old  and 
New  England."  The  American  republic  is  the 
child  of  the  English  Commonwealth.  Samuel 
Adams,  Franklin,  Washington,  Jefferson,  Lin- 
coln, and  Emerson  stand  in  the  apostolic  suc- 
cession to  the  heroic  Puritan  group  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  In  Puritanism  constitutions,  as 
we  understand  the  term,  written  constitutions, 
had  their  birth.  The  Compact  on  the  "  May- 
flower," the  Fundamental  Orders  of  Connecticut, 
the  Agreement  of  the  People,  the  Instrument  of 
Government,  and  Vane's  "  Healing  Question  " 
were  the  progenitors  of  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States ;  and  it  is  this  last,  and  not  the  in- 
stitutions of  the  mother  country,  which  has  pre- 
scribed political  forms  and  methods  to  every 
English    colony    during  the  last  century.     And, 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  5 

as  Puritan  politics  has  determined  the  political 
usages  of  the  English  race  from  Cromwell's  time 
to  ours,  so  Puritan  religion  has  shaped  its 
churches.  The  vast  majority  of  religious  men 
of  English  race  to-day  belong  to  churches  which 
had  their  genesis  or  inspiration  in  the  Puritan 
movement. 

The  pioneers  of  religious  liberty  in  America 
have  all  been  Puritans.  The  Puritan  has  been 
a  pioneer  from  the  beginning.  Puritanism  has 
meant  movement,  has  meant  liberty,  has  meant 
the  demand  for  more  light.  Its  logical  pohty  in 
the  Church  was  Tndependency ;  and  identified 
with  Independency  in  some  way  or  other  have  been 
all  the  eleven  pioneers  of  religious  liberty  chosen 
for  treatment  in  the  present  course  of  lectures. 
It  will  be  said  that  Jefferson's  antecedents  were 
not  these  ;  but  what  Jefferson  himself  admired  in 
religion  was  the  simple  Congregationalism  of  the 
Baptists,  and  in  politics  the  New  England  town 
meeting.  It  will  be  said  that  Phillips  Brooks 
was  a  bishop.  But  Phillips  Brooks  was  baptized 
in  the  First  Church  of  Boston ;  the  blood  of 
John  Cotton  was  in  his  veins ;  he  lost  no  oppor- 
tunity to  slight  the  doctrine  of  apostolic  succes- 
sion ;  and  his  theology,  as  his  successor  has  well 
said,  was  simply  the  theology  of  Horace  Bush- 
nell.     In  truth,  I  believe  that  the  radical  pioneer 


6  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

of  religious  thought  and  rehgious  liberty  can  now 
rise  onlv  in  Independency,  or  there  only  find  his 
place  ;  for  in  the  nature  of  the  case  the  supreme 
authority  in  every  other  polity  must  at  some 
point  or  other  say,  "  Thus  far  and  no  farther." 

The  greatest  pioneer  of  religious  liberty  in 
America  is  not  included  in  the  present  program. 
He  was  never  in  New  England  in  the  flesh.  But 
the  religious  fathers  of  New  England  cared  little 
for  the  flesh  ;  and,  in  spirit,  John  Calvin  was  the 
greatest  force  in  the  Puritanism  of  New  England 
and  of  Old  England  for  three  centuries.  He  is 
a  force  never  to  be  forgotten,  but  always  to  be 
revered,  by  the  sons  of  our  fathers.  I  am  glad 
to  see  men  and  magazines  speaking  to-day  of  the 
"  Renaissance  of  Calvinism."  We  need  such 
a  renaissance.  There  are  things  in  Calvin  and 
Calvinism  which  w^e  do  not  want  to  see  have  new 
birth,  and  which  will  not  have  it;  but  America 
and  England  certainly  need  to-day  that  com- 
manding consciousness  of  the  sovereignty  of  God 
which  made  Puritan  religion  and  Puritan  politics 
potent  and  sublime.  We  need  to  know^  that  any 
sovereignty  which  is  not  rooted  in  the  divine 
sovereignty,  or  is  not  in  harmony  with  that,  can- 
not and  ought  not  long  endure.  We  need  to 
understand  more  deeply  the  relation  of  that  con- 
ception to  all  true  liberty,  equality,  and  fraternity. 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  7 

We  need  to  understand  more  truly  than  most  do 
why  it  was  that  wherever  Calvinism  went  three 
hundred  years  ago — to  Holland  to  fight  under 
William  the  Silent  against  the  Spanish  power,  to 
Scotland  with  John  Knox,  to  the  English  Cam- 
bridge with  Thomas  Cartwright,  or  into  this 
American  wilderness  with  William  Brewster  and 
Thomas  Hooker  —  there  went  inevitably  the 
seeds  of  democracy  and  of  the  commonwealth. 
It  was  with  Calvin's  name  upon  its  lips  that 
Puritanism  was  born.  In  that  same  conference 
at  Hampton  Court,  in  1550,  in  which  John 
Hooper,  "  the  first  Puritan,"  declared  that  ''  the 
usage  of  generations  is  not  sufficient  warrant  in 
religious  matters,"  he  appealed  also  to  ''  Master 
Calvin's  way "  as  the  way  which  it  behooved 
England  to  follow  in  her  own  reformation. 

William  Brewster  was  born  four  years  before 
Calvin  died.  That  was  a  noteworthy  year,  1564, 
in  which  John  Calvin  died  and  William  Shake- 
speare was  born  ;  in  which  Michel  Angelo  died 
and  Galileo  was  born, —  Galileo,  whose  life, 
ending  in  1642,  almost  exactly  covers  Brewster's, 
which  ended  in  1644.  When  Brewster  was  born 
in  1560,  Calvinism  was  pouring  into  England 
with  a  power  which  promised  to  Calvinize 
speedily  the  whole  English  Church, —  which 
would    have  done  it  but   for  royal    intervention. 


8  WILLIAM   BREWSTER 

Elizabeth  had  come  to  the  throne  two  years  be- 
fore ;  and  the  hundreds  of  EngHsh  refugees  who, 
during  Mary's  reign,  had  been  gathered  in  Httle 
congregations  in  Switzerland  and  along  the 
Rhine,  under  Calvin's  controlling  influence,  were 
coming  home  to  spread  that  influence  over  Eng- 
land. How  great  the  sum  total  of  religious 
leadership  in  those  little  congregations  appears 
sufficiently  from  the  fact  that  more  than  half  of 
Elizabeth's  bishops  were  taken  from  their 
number. 

It  was  in  East  England  that  Puritanism  es- 
pecially had  its  home,  and  above  all  places  in 
the  University  of  Cambridge ;  for  the  Puritan 
movement  at  the  first  was  emphatically  a  scholars' 
movement.  How  deep  New  England's  roots 
are  in  the  English  Cambridge  appears  when  we 
bethink  us  of  the  history  of  the  fathers  of  Plym- 
outh, Massachusetts,  Rhode  Island,  and  Con- 
necticut. Brewster  and  Robinson,  Winthrop  and 
the  Massachusetts  clergy,  Roger  Williams,  and 
Thomas  Hooker, —  all  these  were  Cambridge 
men.  It  may  have  been  within  the  very  walls  of 
the  university  that  the  agreement  was  signed 
which  founded  the  Massachusetts  enterprise. 
The  half-dozen  martyrs  of  Congregationalism 
suffered,  three  in  London,  the  other  three  in 
Norfolk  and  Suffolk.     Scattered  about  the  east- 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  9 

ern  counties  are  the  towns  and  parishes  —  St. 
Edmundsbury ;  Norwich  ;  Groton  ;  Little  Bad- 
dow,  where  Thomas  Hooker  and  John  Eliot 
taught  their  school  together ;  Oates,  where  Roger 
Williams  dreamed  of  toleration  in  the  very  spot 
afterwards  the  home  of  John  Locke  who  made  it 
law  —  which  are  the  Meccas  of  the  New  Eng- 
lander  in  England. 

Where  William  Brewster  was  born  we  do  not 
know.  He  succeeded  his  father  as  post  of 
Scrooby  in  1589;  but  how  long  the  father  had 
been  at  Scrooby,  or  whence  he  came,  we  do  not 
know.  This  we  know  :  that  the  Brewster  family 
belonged  to  the  eastern  counties,  with  branches 
in  Suffolk  and  in  Essex.  In  due  time  William 
Brewster  came  to  the  university  at  Cambridge ; 
and  here  it  was  that  he  was  "  first  seasoned  with 
the  seeds  of  grace  and  virtue."  It  must  have 
been  about  1580  that  he  came  to  Cambridge; 
and  this  was  when  Robert  Browne  was  just  be- 
ginning to  preach  his  gospel  of  Independency. 

"When  God  would  plant  New  England,'* 
some  one  has  said,  "  he  sifted  the  whole  Church 
to  get  the  Protestants ;  he  sifted  the  Protestants 
to  get  the  Puritans ;  and  he  sifted  the  Puritans 
to  get  the  Independents."  Every  one  of  these 
movements  in  England  had  its  cradle  in  some 
sort    in   Cambridge,     Thomas   Bilney,  who  first 


lo  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

preached  Luther  influentially  in  England,  who 
converted  Hugh  Latimer,  and  sealed  his  faith  in 
flames  at  Norwich,  was  a  Cambridge  man.  So 
was  Thomas  Cartwright  who,  ten  years  before 
Brewster  came  to  Cambridge,  preached  Calvinism 
there  in  Presbyterian  form  ;  and  so  was  Robert 
Browne,  the  author  of  Independency.  The 
Pilgrim  Fathers  and  all  the  early  Independents, 
who  were  popularly  called  Brownists,  disparaged 
Robert  Browne,  abominating  his  "  apostasy," 
and  seeking  to  shake  off  the  odium  of  his  name. 
"  Few  of  them  ever  saw  his  writings,"  Bradford 
says ;  and  Englishmen  like  to  claim  that  Fitz 
and  Rough  and  others  practised  Independency 
before  Robert  Browne  preached  it.  Yet  Robert 
Browne  was  the  real  apostle  of  Independency. 
It  was  he  who  first  preached  it  with  power,  and 
it  was  he  who  gave  the  doctrine  shape.  Nor  can 
I,  for  one,  remembering  the  long  years  of  hard- 
ship, the  "  thirty  dungeons,"  which  he  endured 
for  the  sake  of  his  vision  before  being  coerced 
into  silence  and  conformity,  be  of  those  who  cast 
the  stone  at  him,  and  say  he  was  no  hero.  He 
stands  in  the  front  rank  of  pioneers  of  religious 
liberty, —  our  religious  liberty  here  in  America. 
He  was  the  link  between  John  Calvin  and  John 
Robinson,  that  revered  teacher  of  Brewster  and 
the  Pilgrim   Fathers,  who,  like  Calvin,  never  in 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  ii 

New  England  in  the  flesh,  was  present  at  Plym- 
outh in  the  spirit  as  a  controlling  influence  until 
he  died.  It  was  in  Robert  Browne's  two  books, 
'^  Reformation  without  Tarrying  for  Any  "  and 
"  The  Life  and  Manners  of  All  True  Christians," 
which,  printed  in  his  exile  in  Holland,  were 
stealing  into  England  just  as  Brewster  left  Cam- 
bridge, that  Congregationalism,  or  Independency,  i 
found  its  first  strong  statement  in  the  modern 
world.  The  doctrines  v/hich  brought  William 
Brewster  and  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  together  at 
Scrooby  and  drove  them  to  Holland  and  then 
to  Plymouth  were  the  doctrines  expounded  by 
Robert  Browne  in  these  revolutionary  books.       | 

What  were  the  doctrines  P     Simply  these  :  that, 
wherever  two  or  three  are  gathered   together  in   ] 
purity  of  doctrine    and  innocency  of  life,  there 
is  all  that  is   necessary  to  constitute  a  Christian  j 
church ;  and  that  any  may  preach  or  teach  whom  | 
the  others  choose  to  hear.     A  few  words  sum  up    ■ 
the  theory;  but  the  whole  of  modern  democracy 
is  in  them.     The  relation  of  religion  to  politics 
in   this    world    is    immediate.     When    James    I. 
said,  "  No  bishop,  no  king,"  he  said  a  sagacious 
thing.     He    saw  well    enough  at    the   beginning 
what  we  all  see  now,  —  that  when  "  Jack  and  Tom 
and  Will  and  Dick,"  as  he  phrased  it,  have  the 
right  to  stand  up  in  the  congregation  and  have 


12  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

their  say  about  Church  matters,  they  will  soon  have 
their  say  about  State  matters,  too.  Men  who  can 
form  a  church  by  simply  signing  a  covenant  will 
in  due  time,  and  that  no  long  time,  pass  on  to 
the  "  Mayflower  "  Compact,  the  Fundamental  Or- 
ders, the  Agreement  of  the  People,  and  all  the 
rest.  Town  meetings,  constitutional  conventions, 
initiative  and  referendum,  all  are  involved,  and 
will  be  evolved  as  rapidly  as  necessary. 

The  little  Scrooby  congregation,  the  "  May- 
flower"  company,  was  the  most  illustrious  and  al- 
most the  first  church  in  modern  history  based  upon 
this  principle  of  Independency.  By  and  by  Crom- 
well and  the  army  came  to  it ;  it  was  the  polity  of 
the  Commonwealth  ;  it  was  the  common  doctrine 
of  Puritanism  in  its  full  development.  But  Brews- 
ter and  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  grasped  it  in  the  be- 
ginning :  they  were  pioneers  ;  and  they  bore  the 
doctrine  hither  in  the  "  Mayflower,"  to  be  the  cor- 
ner-stone of  our  religious  and  political  institu- 
tions. Carlyle  compares  the  "  Mayflower,"  breast- 
ing the  stormy  sea  and  lonely  shore,  to  the  "  Argo," 
and  well  tells  us  that  she  bore  a  richer  freight. 
We  may  say  more  than  this.  We  may  say  that  she 
was  the  most  significant  and  reverend  ship  in 
human  history,  more  sacred  than  the  "  Santa  Ma- 
ria," and  to  be  in  the  youth  of  fame  when  Nelson's 
"  Victory  "   and    "  Temeraire,"     and    "  Constitu- 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  13 

tions,"    "Monitors,"    "Great     Easterns,"    and 
"Oceanics"    innumerable  are   hasting  to  forget- 
fulness.     It  was  here  on  New  England  soil  that 
Independency  first    reached    its  growth  ;    and  it 
was  as    the  "New  England  way"  that    it    con- 
quered Cromwell's  army  and  conquered  Puritan 
England.     It  was  no  accident  by  which  the  most 
republican,  the  most  American,  of  the  illustrious 
leaders  of  the  Commonwealth,  the  author  of  "  A 
Healing  Question,"  should  have  been  Sir  Harry 
Vane,  he  of  their  number  who  had  been  a  cit- 
izen of  Boston,  governor  of  Massachusetts,  and 
a  member  of  the  household  of  John  Cotton. 

The  central  figure  in  that  "  Mayflower  "  con-  | 
gregation  was  William  Brewster.  He  was  the 
Father  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,—  "  the  most  emi- 
nent person  in  the  movement,"  as  says  Joseph 
Hunter,  "  and  who,  if  that  honor  is  to  be  given 
to  any  single  person,  must  be  regarded  as  the 
Father  of  New  England."  Of  all  the  founders 
of  New  England,  he  was  the  man  who  had  had 
the  largest  public  experience,  who  had  seen  the 
most  of  the  world  of  men  and  great  affairs,  who 
had  been  in  closest  touch  with  politics  and  state- 
craft, who  had  personally  known  and  seen  most 
of  the  glories  of  the  Elizabethan  age.  We  have 
noticed  that  he  was  born  just  as  Elizabeth's  reign 
began.     He  came  to  the  court,  to  enter  the  ser- 


14  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

vice  of  Sir  William  Davison,  in  the  same  year 
that  William  the  Silent  was  assassinated,  and  when 
the  diplomatic  negotiations  between  England  and 
Holland,  in  which  he  was  himself  to  bear  an 
important  part,  were  of  greatest  moment.  He 
died,  to  round  the  chronology,  in  the  year  (1644) 
of  Marston  Moor  and  the  birth  of  William 
Penn.  Few  lives,  indeed,  have  spanned  a  period 
more  significant.  England,  in  all  her  history,  had 
known  no  moment  of  such  interest  as  that  when 
the  youthful  Brewster  came  from  the  University 
of  Cambridge  to  the  court  of  Elizabeth.  She 
had  known  no  such  illustrious  group  of  men  as 
that  then  in  London.  Sir  William  Davison,  into 
whose  immediate  service  Brewster  came,  was  a 
statesman  of  conspicuous  greatness  even  in  that 
age  of  great  statesmen,  loved  and  praised  by  his 
eminent  associates  as  the  possessor  of  almost 
every  public  and  private  virtue.  Among  his 
associates  as  secretaries  of  state  were  the  great 
Burleigh ;  Sir  Walter  Mildmay,  whom  Brewster 
may  well  have  heard  speak  often  of  the  "^  oak  " 
which  he  had  planted  at  Cambridge;  and  Walsing- 
ham,  above  all  others  zealous  in  the  interest  of 
American  exploration  and  colonization.  One  likes 
to  imagine  William  Brewster  in  warm  converse 
with  Richard  Hakluyt  as  he  comes  for  conference 
with  Walsingham   or  another.     The  talk    is   of 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  15 

Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert,  who  had  been  lost  on  his 
return  voyage  from  Newfoundland  the  year  before 
Brewster  came  to  court;  or  of  Sir  Francis  Drake, 
who  had  got  home  to  Plymouth  from  his  sailing 
round  the  world  three  years  before  that ;  or  of 
Martin  Frobisher  and  his  search  for  the  North- 
west Passage.  It  was  the  heyday  of  the  great 
Elizabethan  seamen ;  and  the  Armada  was  just 
ahead,  to  go  into  history  before  Brewster  became 
post  of  Scrooby.  It  was  the  heyday  of  Ehza- 
bethan  genius.  It  was  while  Brewster  was  in 
Davison's  service  that  William  Shakespeare  came 
from  Stratford  to  London.  He  was  the  youngest 
of  the  brilliant  Elizabethan  galaxy,  four  years 
younger  than  Brewster.  Sidney  was  six  years 
older  than  Brewster,  Spenser  seven  years,  Raleigh 
eight  years  older.  All  of  these  men  save  Sid- 
ney, to  whom  Brewster  himself  transferred  the 
keys  of  Flushing  in  1585,  and  who  fell  the  next 
year  at  Zutphen,  died  —  Raleigh  on  the  scaffold  — 
while  Brewster  was  at  Scrooby  or  at  Leyden  ;  and 
the  same  period  witnessed  the  assassination  of 
Henry  IV.  and  the  deaths  of  Montaigne,  Tasso, 
and  Cervantes.  In  1587  came  the  execution 
of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  involving  Davison's 
own  fall  and  Brewster's  with  him;  in  1588, 
the  Armada.  Add  to  this  the  great  drama  in 
Holland.     It  is  when  we  think  of  the  bare,  stern. 


i6  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

solitary  life  for  the  quarter-century  at  Plymouth 
with  the  contrast  of  this  stirring,  brilliant  back- 
ground of  momentous  political,  martial,  and  lit- 
erary history,  that  we  grasp  the  full  meaning,  the 
pathos,  tragedy,  and  heroism  of  the  life  of  Will- 
iam Brewster. 

That  young  Brewster  should  have  been  re- 
ceived to  the  responsible  and  confidential  place 
which  he  occupied  in  the  service  of  the  great  Sec- 
retary of  State  clearly  implies  important  family 
position  or  influence  and  high  qualification.  Brad- 
ford tells  us  that  Davison  '^  trusted  him  above  all 
others  that  were  about  him,  and  only  employed 
him  in  all  matters  of  greatest  trust  and  secrecy. 
He  esteemed  him  rather  as  a  son  than  a  servant, 
and  for  his  wisdom  and  godliness  he  would  con- 
verse with  him  in  private  more  like  a  friend  and 
familiar  than  a  master." 

Brewster  could  hardly  have  been  at  court  more 
than  a  year  when  he  was  called  upon  to  accom- 
pany Davison  on  his  important  diplomatic  mis- 
sion to  Holland,  in  connection  with  the  closer 
union  between  England  and  Holland  immedi- 
ately after  the  assassination  of  William.  A  quarter 
of  a  century  later,  in  his  middle  life,  he  was  to 
come  again,  as  a  religious  fugitive,  among  these 
scenes  which  now  in  youth  he  visited  as  a  cour- 
tier, amid  the  pomp  and  pageantry   of  war  ;  and 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  17 

in  many  an  evening  hour  at  Amsterdam  and 
Leyden,  in  that  hard  and  humble  later  day,  must 
he  have  meditated  on  the  contrast.  His  service 
now  with  Davison  was  important  and  was  hon- 
ored. When  the  keys  to  Flushing,  which  was 
surrendered  for  English  occupancy,  were  given  to 
Davison  by  the  Dutch  authorities,  they  were  by 
him  committed  to  Brewster,  who,  we  read,  slept 
the  first  night  with  them  under  his  pillow,  and 
who  transferred  them  to  Sir  Philip  Sidney  when 
he  arrived  a  month  later  to  take  command.  At 
Flushing  he  witnessed  the  pageant  when  Leices- 
ter came,  and  Essex.  The  enthusiasm  of  both 
Dutch  and  English  over  the  alliance  was  demon- 
strative and  intense.  "  Whom  God  hath  joined 
together,  let  no  man  put  asunder !  "  was  the 
device  upon  the  banner  borne  from  town  to  town 
as  the  English  lords  and  warriors  moved  from 
Flushing  to  Middelburg,  to  Rotterdam,  to  Delft, 
the  Hague,  and  on  to  Leyden  and  Amsterdam. 
Davison  and  Brewster  accompanied  Leicester  on 
the  whole  triumphant  journey.  At  Middelburg 
the  widow  of  William  the  Silent  and  Maurice, 
his  youthful  son,  joined  in  the  welcome.  At 
Rotterdam  they  saw  the  newly  erected  statue  of 
Erasmus  ;  at  Delft  they  stayed  in  the  same  palace 
where  William  had  just  been  assassinated  ;  at  the 
Hague,  Leicester  in  his  speech  paid  high  tribute 


i8  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

to  Davison,  declaring  that  no  other  Englishman 
knew  Holland  so  well  or  was  so  highly  esteemed 
by  the  Dutch  people.  At  Leyden,  which  by 
and  by  was  to  be  for  a  decade  the  home  of 
Brewster  and  the  Pilgrims,  there  was  a  great 
pageant  provided,  in  which  scenes  were  enacted 
illustrating  the  terrible  siege  of  the  city,  which 
had  taken  place  only  eleven  years  before.  When 
presently  Davison  returned  to  England,  the  States 
honored  him  with  a  gold  chain  ;  and  his  apprecia- 
tion of  Brewster  appears  from  the  fact  that  he 
commissioned  him  to  wear  the  chain  in  England 
until  they  came  to  court. 

In  London,  Brewster  now  came  into  close  touch 
with  Sir  Edwin  Sandys,  whose  friendship  by  and 
by,  when  the  negotiations  for  removing  to  New 
England  were  in  process,  was  to  be  of  such  con- 
spicuous service.  It  was  at  just  this  time  that 
Edwin  Sandys  and  George  Cranmer  entered  Dav- 
ison's service  with  Brewster.  They  had  studied 
together  at  Oxford,  where  Richard  Hooker,  the 
"judicious"  Hooker,  afterwards  author  of  the 
"  Ecclesiastical  Polity,"  had  been  their  tutor. 
Some  will  remember  the  amusing  account  given  by 
Izaak  Walton  of  the  visit  of  the  two  young  men 
to  Hooker  in  his  little  rectory  at  Drayton  Beau- 
champ.  Hooker  was  now  in  London,  master  of 
the  Temple,  in  the  midst  of  his  controversy  with 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  19 

Puritanism.  The  Calvinist  Travers  was  his  col- 
league ;  and  Fuller  tells  us  that  "  pure  Canter- 
bury "  was  in  the  ascendency  at  the  Temple  in 
the  morning,  "Geneva"  in  the  afternoon.  It  is 
impossible  that  Brewster  should  not  have  been 
deeply  interested  in  this  exciting  polemic,  the 
more  as  his  new  friends  were  such  friends  of 
Hooker,  with  whom  later  boA  corresponded 
about  his  great  ecclesiastical  work.  It  was  just 
after  Brewster  retired  from  London  to  Scrooby 
that  Hooker  retired  to  the  quiet  of  Boscomb, 
where  the  first  four  books  of  the  "  Ecclesiastical 
Polity  "  were  written.  Hooker  was  the  greatest 
champion  of  Episcopacy,  as  Cartwright,  whose 
books  Brewster  presently  printed  at  Leyden,  was 
the  chief  English  champion  of  Presbyterianism  ; 
and  this  glimpse  of  our  pioneer  Independent  in 
relations  with  the  leading  representatives  of  the 
two  other  great  church  polities  is  an  interesting 
one. 

In  February,  1587,  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  was 
executed  at  Fotheringay  Castle.  The  part  of 
Davison  in  connection  with  the  execution  is  well 
known.  It  was  he  who  had  carried  to  the  Coun- 
cil the  warrant  which  Elizabeth  had  signed  and 
flung  upon  the  floor,  and  who  had  seen  that  the 
warrant  was  carried  into  eflFect;  and  it  was  he 
upon  whom  the  adroit  and  hypocritical  rage  of 


20  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

the  queen  chiefly  spent  itself.  Brewster  re- 
mained faithfully  beside  him  in  his  trouble,  visit- 
ing him  in  the  Tower  and  serving  him  in  all  w^ays 
possible ;  but  Davison  still  lingered  in  the  Tower 
when  Brewster  left  London  for  Scrooby,  where 
the  Pilgrim  history  begins.  It  is  a  letter  to  Da- 
vison concerning  Brewster,  and  Davison's  com- 
ments on  it,  which  throws  some  light  upon  the 
date  when  Davison  was  again  in  official  life ;  for 
the  letter,  from  Sir  John  Stanhope,  the  new  Mas- 
ter of  the  Posts,  is  addressed  to  "  Mr.  Secretary 
Davison."  It  was  written  in  August,  1590,  and 
is  a  defence  of  the  intended  gift  of  the  postmas- 
tership  of  Scrooby  to  some  favorite  of  Stanhope, 
at  the  cost  of  Brewster,  who  had  succeeded  his 
father  in  the  office,  and  who  in  some  way  had 
earned  Sir  John's  disfavor.  The  letter  is  pre- 
served in  the  Public  Record  Office  in  London, 
where  I  have  seen  it ;  and  interesting,  indeed,  it  is 
for  the  New  Englander  to  read  the  indorsements 
on  the  back  in  Davison's  own  hand,  bearing  wit- 
ness to  Brewster's  honor  and  efficiency,  and  re- 
versing the  order  to  dispossess  him.  The  records 
show  that  Brewster  acted  as  post  of  Scrooby  from 
January,  1589,  to  September,  1607. 

The  Scrooby  story  is  so  familiar  to  every  good 
New  Englander  that  in  this  presence  it  is  unnec- 
essary to  rehearse  it.     What  Mecca  in  England 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  21 

so  sacred  to  us  as  "  the  sundry  towns  and  vil- 
lages, some  in  Nottinghamshire,  some  of  Lincoln- 
shire, and  some  of  Yorkshire,  where  they  border 
nearest  together,"  which  furnished  those  first  little 
Independent  congregations  !  Scrooby,  with  Baw- 
try  and  Austerfield  beside  it,  is  the  Bethlehem 
of  this  Holy  Land.  Yet  for  two  centuries  the 
knowledge  of  the  place  was  lost  to  New  England, 
as  for  almost  a  century  the  Bible  which  contained 
the  Genesis,  Exodus,  Joshua  and  Judges  of  the 
Pilgrim  history  was  lost  also.  By  strange  coinci- 
dence it  was  the  same  English  scholar,  Joseph 
Hunter,  who  one  year,  1854,  revealed  Scrooby 
and  Austerfield,  and  the  next  year  identified  in 
London  Bradford's  Journal.  It  is  Bradford,  who 
as  a  youth  walked  over  from  Austerfield  to  the 
meetings  in  Brewster's  house,  who  has  bequeathed 
to  us  the  story  of  them,  and  he  who  at  the  last  paid 
the  personal  tribute  to  Brewster  which  tells  us 
almost  all  we  know  of  his  biography  and  his 
character. 

The  little  Scrooby  congregation  which  Brewster 
gathered,  we  read,  ''  ordinarily  met  at  his  house, 
which  was  a  manor  of  the  Bishop's."  By  the 
Bishop  is  meant  the  Archbishop  of  York,  who 
was  at  this  time  Archbishop  Sandys,  father  of 
Brewster's  friend.  Sir  Edwin.  It  was  a  famous 
old  house,  which  had   associations  with   Wolsey 


22  WILLIAM   BREWSTER 

and  Henry  VI I L,  and  which  Leland  had  vis- 
ited and  written  about  in  1541.  It  was  Will- 
iam Brewster's  home  for  nearly  twenty  years. 
When  he  came  to  it  from  London,  he  found  that 
the  region  was  in  religious  destitution.  Many 
people  had  not  heard  a  sermon  for  years ;  and 
many  of  those  who  had  heard  them  had  heard 
wretched  ones,  from  clergy  with  slight  pretensions 
to  godliness.  Brewster,  still  a  faithful  member 
of  the  Church  of  England,  devoted  himself  to 
securing  good  preachers  for  the  neighborhood, 
and  made  large  contributions  for  the  improvement 
of  the  churches.  But,  growing  ever  more  serious 
himself,  he  revolted  more  and  more  from  the 
perfunctoriness  of  their  life  and  services ;  and  in 
1606  the  little  Independent  congregation  was  or- 
ganized in  his  own  house,  with  Richard  Clifton 
as  its  first  teacher,  presently  to  be  joined  by  John 
Robinson,  coming  to  the  north  country  from  the 
eastern  counties.  In  the  old  manor  house,  Brew- 
ster's five  children  were  born.  By  and  by,  as  the 
persecutions  thickened,  he  was  the  chief  organizer 
of  the  flight  to  Holland.  He  was  one  of  the 
seven  thrown  into  prison  at  Boston,  when  the 
first  effort  to  escape  had  failed ;  and,  when  the 
second  partially  succeeded,  he  and  Robinson 
stayed  behind  to  help  over  those  who  remained, 
and  were  themselves  the  last  to  leave  England 
for  Holland. 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  23 

During  the  year  at  Amsterdam  and  the  eleven 
years  at  Leyden,  Brewster  and  Robinson  were  the 
joint  shepherds  of  the  flock.     "  We  choose  none 
for  governing  elders  but  such  as  are  able  to  teach," 
was  written  from  Leyden  to  London,  to  point  the 
distinction  between  this   congregation's  way  and 
the  French  way.     Elder    Brewster   was    able   to 
teach,  and  did  do  it  upon  occasion  in  Holland, 
as    he    did  regularly  during  those  long  years  at 
Plymouth.     He  was   a  scholar,  and    in   Leyden 
prepared  an  English  grammar,  and  helped  sup- 
port himself  by  teaching  English   to  students  in 
the  university.     The   Pilgrims'  stay  in  Holland 
almost    exactly  covered   the    twelve    years'  truce 
between  Holland  and  the  Spanish  power.     They 
lived  among  the  tragical  traces  of  the  early  years 
of  the    great    conflict ;     their    neighbors    remem- 
bered the  terrible  time   of  the    siege.      Holland 
still  swarmed  with  soldiers.     There  was  probably 
no  morning  in  the  long   years  at   Leyden  when 
our  fathers    did  not  wake  to  the   sound  of  the 
trumpet ;    and  the  near  prospect  of  the  renewal 
of  the  conflict  was   one  important  consideration 
which  hastened  their  removal  to  New  England. 
The  period  was   also   one  of  hot    religious  con- 
troversy.    Arminius,  who  was  born  in  the  same 
year  as  Brewster,  died  the  very  year  that  the   Pil- 
grims came  to  Leyden,  where  he  had  taught  the- 


24  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

ology;  and  polemics  about  free  will  and  predes- 
tination were  all  about  the  Pilgrims'  ears.  The 
Synod  of  Dort,  which  defined  the  "five  points"  of 
Calvinism,  and  which,  as  its  president  said, "  made 
hell  tremble,"  was  in  session  during  their  last 
years  in  Holland;  and  doubtless  Robinson  and 
Brewster  came  into  touch  with  it.  They  surely 
heartily  sympathized  with  its  conclusions  ;  but  we 
do  not  like  to  believe  that  they  rejoiced  in  the 
execution  of  Barneveldt  and  the  imprisonment  of 
Grotius,  which  followed  it  so  closely. 

Brewster's  important  work  in  Leyden  was  that 
of  pubhshing.  With  one  Thomas  Brewer,  he 
established  in  Leyden  a  secret  press,  where  he 
printed  and  sent  into  England  many  books  cal- 
culated to  offend  the  powers  that  were  in  Church 
and  State  and  to  bring  down  their  wrath.  Their 
wrath  was  brought  down,  especially  the  hot  wrath 
of  James  I.;  and  the  score  of  letters  which 
passed  back  and  forth  between  the  foreign  office 
and  the  English  ambassador  in  Holland  before 
the  press  was  found  and  silenced  make  interesting 
reading.  They  can  all  be  found,  with  a  full  list  of 
the  books  printed,  in  Arber's  painstaking  chapter. 
There  were  books  by  Cartwright  and  Robinson 
and  Travers,  and,  most  mischievous  of  all,  David 
Calderwood's  "  Government  of  the  Scotch  Church" 
and    "  Perth    Assembly."       Here,    indeed,   were 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  25 

books  to  stir  James  Stuart !  "  Judged  by  the  ideas 
of  his  own  age,"  as  Arber  well  says,  "  Brewster 
was  nothing  less  than  a  theological  dynamitard." 

Brewster  joined  with  Robinson  in  conducting 
the  correspondence  with  Sir  Edwin  Sandys  and 
others  in  London  in  the  negotiations  preceding 
the  removal  from  Leyden  to  New  England.  Sir 
Edwin  Sandys  was  now  treasurer  and  governor 
of  the  Virginia  Company ;  and  Brewster  thus 
after  thirty  years  comes  into  touch  again  with 
his  old  associate  in  the  service  of  Davison.  All 
through  the  negotiations  we  keep  coming  upon 
words  from  London  showing  the  suspicion  of 
the  Pilgrims'  Independency,  which  was  there 
working  against  them.  It  was  only  the  shrewd- 
est diplomacy  that  saved  their  project  from  ship- 
wreck. "  For  the  discipline  of  the  Church  in 
the  colonies,"  Lord  Bacon  had  said, —  and  his 
maxims  governed  the  Council, — "  it  will  be 
necessary  that  it  agree  with  that  which  is  set- 
tled in  England  ;  and,  to  that  purpose,  it  will 
be  fitting  that  all  the  colonies  be  subordinate 
under  some  bishop  of  this  realm.  The  tenets 
of  separatists  and  sectaries  are  full  of  schism 
and  inconsistent  with  monarchy.  Discipline  by 
bishops  is  fittest  for  monarchy."  Robinson  and 
Brewster  had  drawn  up  a  statement  in  seven 
articles,  putting  their  principles  in  the  most  tem- 


26  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

perate  form,  to  allay  irritation  ;  but  the  Council 
easily  saw  that  the  articles  were  very  shaky  on 
the  sacraments  and  "  the  ecclesiastical  ministry." 
"Who  shall  make  your  ministers?"  asked  Sir 
John  Wolstenholme,  who  had  undertaken  to 
submit  their  "further  explanation  "  to  the  Coun- 
cil. "  The  power  of  making  them  is  in  the 
church,"  thev  answered;  and  it  came  near  wreck- 
ing their  enterprise.  Sir  John  saw  that,  the  more 
thev  explained,  the  worse  it  got  for  them;  and  he 
was  shrewd  enough  and  kind  enough  to  keep 
their  "further  explanation"  away  from  the  Coun- 
cil-board. 

Brewster  and  Robinson,  at  this  time  at  any 
rate,  were  not  separatists  of  the  extreme  sort. 
The  earlv  Brownists  had  gone  so  far  as  to  declare 
the  Church  of  England  no  true  church  at  all. 
Robinson  himself  had  been  "  more  rigid  at  first  " 
than  he  was  at  Leyden.  Roger  Williams  in  his 
Massachusetts  days  was  a  strict  separatist,  like 
Smith  at  Amsterdam.  The  Pilgrims  were 
stanch  believers  in  their  own  Independency. 
Thev  believed  it  was  the  polity  of  the  primitive 
churches  and  the  polity  most  favorable  to  piety 
and  progress  :  they  believed  that  in  their  time 
the  cause  of  freedom  was  bound  up  with  it ;  but 
they  treated  all  of  their  Christian  brethren  with 
tolerance,    respect,  and    love.     "  If  any,"  writes 


WILLIAM  .BREWSTER  27 

Winslow  "  (joining  to  us  formerly  either  when 
we  lived  at  Ley  den  in  Holland  or  since  we  came 
to  New  England),  have,  with  the  manifestation 
of  their  faith  and  profession  of  holiness,  held 
forth  therewith  separation  from  the  Church  of 
England,  I  have  divers  times,  both  in  the  one 
place  and  the  other,  heard  either  Master  Robin- 
son, our  Pastor,  or  Master  Brewster,  our  Elder, 
stop  them  forthwith,  showing  them  that  we  re- 
quired no  such  things  at  their  hands,  but  only  to 
hold  forth  faith  in  Christ  Jesus,  holiness  in  the 
fear  of  God,  and  submission  to  every  ordinance 
and  appointment  of  God,  leaving  the  Church  of 
England  to  themselves  and  to  the  Lord."  They 
believed  that  all  jealousy  and  friction  between 
themselves  and  the  Puritan  Anglican  clergy 
would  disappear  instantly  under  changed  condi- 
tions. In  his  farewell  sermon  to  the  Pilgrims  in 
Holland,  Robinson  said,  advising  them  to  close 
with  the  godly  party  in  England  and  "  rather  to 
study  union  than  division":  "There  will  be  no 
difference  between  the  unconformable  ministers 
and  you  when  they  come  to  the  practice  of  the 
ordinances  out  of  the  kingdom."  The  history 
of  Salem  and  Boston  from  the  first  was  the  ful- 
filment of  his  prophecy. 

Of  the  little  congregation  at  Plymouth,  Brew- 
ster   was     at     once     pastor    and     teacher     and 


28  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

elder.  Had  Robinson  come  over,  he  would  have 
resumed  the  pastoral  office  over  the  reunited 
church.  But  it  was  settled  at  Leyden  that  "  those 
that  went  should  be  an  absolute  church  of  them- 
selves." Robinson  objected,  on  no  good  Con- 
gregational grounds,  to  Brewster  administering 
the  sacraments ;  and  so  for  several  years  the 
Plymouth  church  went  without  the  sacraments. 
But  that  was  all,  and  the  church  doesn't  seem 
to  have  been  much  the  worse  for  it.  Marriages, 
from  the  beginning,  at  Plymouth  were  civil,  per- 
formed by  the  magistrate,  "  according  to  the  laud- 
able custom  of  the  Low  Countries  in  which  they 
had  lived."  They  could  not  find  in  the  word 
of  God  that  marriage  was  "  tved  to  ministrie." 
The  Plymouth  church  was  a  church  of  laymen. 
Its  elder  was  one  of  the  most  faithful  of  pastors, 
but  he  was  simply  a  brother  among  brethren. 
He  was  nurse  in  sickness,  he  labored  with  his 
hands  in  the  fields,  and  he  was  as  much  coun- 
sellor in  politics  as  in  religion.  If  we  had  the 
original  draft  of  the  Compact  signed  on  board 
the  *'  Mavflovrer,"  it  is  an  even  chance  that  we 
should  find  it  in  his  hand. 

To  us  New  Englanders  that  Plymouth  life  is 
as  familiar  as  the  very  gospel  story ;  and  no 
other  story  save  that  alone  is  so  simple  and  ten- 
der and  sacred.     It  is   the  babe  in    the  manger 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  29 

again,  the  cradle  of  our  era.  It  is  the  apothe- 
osis of  heroism.  Since  Luther  at  Worms,  I 
know  of  no  such  heroic  picture  as  that  of  the 
Pilgrims  gathered  on  the  shore,  at  the  end  of 
the  winter  of  death,  to  see  the  "  Mayflower"  sail. 
With  half  their  number  lying  in  their  graves  in 
the  wheat-field,  "  not  one  looked  back  who  had 
set  his  hand  to  this  ploughing."  Through  the 
tremulous  years  comes  the  devout  prayer  of  the 
elder,  and  the  resolute,  unspoken  antiphon : 
"  Here  we  stay  :  we  cannot  do  otherwise.  God 
help  us  !     Amen  !  " 

Memorable  glimpses  of  the  little  church  we 
get  from  time  to  time  through  outside  eyes. 
Beautiful  is  the  picture  drawn  by  De  Rasieres, 
coming  over  from  New  Amsterdam  in  1627,  of 
the  little  community  on  Sunday  morning  march- 
ing to  meeting  in  the  fort  on  the  hill,  the  men 
with  their  guns,  the  governor  and  elder  and  cap- 
tain side  by  side  at  the  head.  Beautiful  is  the 
picture  preserved  by  Winthrop  in  his  journal  of 
his  visit  to  Plymouth  with  Rev.  John  Wilson, 
the  pastor  of  the  Boston  church,  in  1632,  Brad- 
ford and  Brewster  coming  out  of  the  town  to 
meet  and  greet  them. 

"  On  the  Lord's  day  there  was  a  sacrament, 
which  they  did  partake  in ;  and,  in  the  afternoon, 
Mr.  Roger  Williams,  according  to  their  custom. 


30  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

propounded  a  question,  to  which  their  pastor, 
Mr.  Smith,  spoke  briefly ;  then  Mr.  Williams 
prophesied  ;  and  after  the  Governour  of  Plimouth 
spake  to  the  question  ;  after  him  the  Elder ;  then 
some  two  or  three  more  of  the  congregation. 
Then  the  Elder  desired  the  Governour  of  Massa- 
chusetts and  Mr.  Wilson  to  speak  to  it,  which 
they  did.  When  this  was  ended,  the  Deacon, 
Mr.  Fuller,  put  the  congregation  in  mind  of  their 
duty  of  contribution  ;  whereupon  the  Governour 
and  all  the  rest  went  down  to  the  deacon's  seat, 
and  put  into  the  box,  and  then  returned." 

At  this  time  Rev.  Ralph  Smith  had  been  "  ex- 
ercising his  gifts "  among  them  for  three  years, 
and  they  now  had  the  sacraments.  At  one  time, 
while  Brewster  still  lived,  Charles  Chauncey  was 
teacher  at  Plymouth ;  at  one  time,  for  a  winter, 
John  Norton.  But  so  long  as  Brewster  lived, 
he  was  the  colony's  venerated  "  father  in  God  "  ; 
and  at  Duxbury,  which  he  made  his  home  in  his 
last  years,  he  served  actively  as  teacher  till  1637. 
At  Duxbury  he  died  in  1644,  ^^  the  age  of  four- 
score and  four.  "  His  sickness  was  not  long,  and 
till  ye  last  day  therof  he  did  not  wholy  keepe  his 
bed.  His  speech  continued  till  somewhat  more 
than  halfe  a  day,  &  then  failed  him  ;  and  about 
9  or  10  oclock  that  evning  he  dyed,  without  any 
pangs  at  all  .  .  .  and  so  sweetly  departed  this  life 
unto  a  better." 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  31 

Bradford's  tribute  to  Brewster  is  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  and  most  valuable  passages  in  his 
history.  "  Haply  more  may  be  done  hereafter," 
he  says,  as  if  he  felt  the  inadequacy  of  what  he 
wrote  and  purposed  something  fuller  ;  but  nothing 
more  was  ever  written.  Brief  as  it  is,  however,  it 
is  more  than  he  devoted  to  Robinson  in  his 
pages ;  and  it  is  our  authority  touching  Brewster's 
life.  His  early  history  is  reviewed  ;  and  then  the 
touching  story  told  of  the  hardships  at  Plymouth, 
which  he  so  cheerfully  endured.  High  tribute  is 
paid  to  his  ministry,  by  which  many  were  brought 
to  God.  "  He  did  more  in  this  behalf  in  a  year 
than  many  that  have  their  hundreds  a  year  do  in 
all  their  lives."  His  rare  wisdom  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  church  and  its  preservation  in  purity 
and  peace  is  noticed ;  and  the  personal  picture  is 
tenderly  drawn. 

For  his  personall  abilities,  he  was  qualified  above 
many ;  he  was  wise  and  discreete  and  well  spoken,  hav- 
ing a  grave  &  deliberate  utterance,  of  a  very  cherfuU 
spirite,  very  sociable  Sz  pleasante  amongst  his  freinds,  of 
an  humble  and  modest  mind,  of  a  peaceable  disposition, 
under  vallewing  him  self  &  his  owne  abilities,  and  some 
time  over  valewing  others  ;  inoffencive  and  inocente  in 
his  Hfe  &  conversation,  wch  gained  him  ye  love  of  those 
without,  as  well  as  those  within  ;  yet  he  would  tell  them 
plainely   of  their  faults   &  evills,  both  publickly  &  pri- 


32  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

vatly,  but  in  such  a  manner  as  usually  was  well  taken 
from  him.  He  was  tender  harted,  and  compassionate 
of  such  as  were  in  miserie,  but  espetialy  of  such  as  had 
been  of  good  estate  and  ranke,  and  were  fallen  unto 
want  &  poverty,  either  for  goodnes  &  religions  sake,  or 
by  ye  injury  &  oppression  of  others ;  he  would  say,  of 
all  men  these  deserved  to  be  pitied  most.  And  none 
did  more  offend  &  displease  him  then  such  as  would 
hautily  and  proudly  carry  &  lift  up  themselves,  being 
rise  from  nothing  and  having  litle  els  in  them  to  comend " 
them  but  a  few  fine  cloaths,  or  a  litle  riches  more  then 
others.  In  teaching,  he  was  very  moving  &  stirring  of 
affections,  also  very  plaine  &  distincte  in  what  he  taught ; 
by  which  means  he  became  ye  more  profitable  to  ye 
hearers.  He  had  a  singuler  good  gift  in  prayer,  both  pub- 
lick  &  private,  in  ripping  up  ye  hart  &  conscience  before 
God,  in  ye  humble  confession  of  sinne,  and  begging  ye 
mercies  of  God  in  Christ  for  ye  pardon  of  ye  same. 
He  always  thought  it  were  better  for  ministers  to  pray 
oftener,  and  devide  their  prears,  then  be  longe  &  tedious 
in  ye  same  (excepte  upon  sollemne  Sz  spetiall  occations, 
as  in  days  of  humiliation  &  ye  like).  His  reason  was, 
that  ye  harte  &  spirits  of  all,  espetialy  ye  weake,  could 
hardly  continue  &  stand  bente  (as  it  were)  so  long 
towards  God,  as  they  ought  to  doe  in  yt  duty,  without 
flagging  and  falling  of. 

No  figure  in  the  early  history  of  New  England 
is  so  affecting  as  that  of  Elder  Brewster.  The 
Plymouth  Pilgrims,  for  the  most  part, —  although 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  33 

there  were  fine  minds  among  them,  and  Bradford 
could  quote  Plato  to  good  purpose  on  occasion, 
and  Pliny  and  Seneca,— were  simple  folk  from 
the  farms  and  villages  round  about  Scrooby,  poor 
peasant  people,  although  schooled  indeed  in  the 
school  of  hard  and  varied  experience.     But  Elder 
Brewster,  the  father  of  the  flock,  was  a  scholar 
in  exile,  a  man  of  gentle   blood,  of  Cambridge 
culture,  of  experience  in  courts,  carrying  in  mem- 
ory a  picture  gallery  hung  with    great   portraits 
and    historic   scenes.     He  spoke    Latin  readily, 
and    knew    Greek    and    Hebrew.     Here   in   the 
wilderness  he  had  what  was  for  those  days,  even 
in  England,  a  large  library.     It  contained  at  his 
death    four    hundred    volumes,    many    of    them  ^ 
costly  quartos  and  folios.     Nearly  one  hundred 
of    these   volumes   were    published    after    1620, 
showing  in  what  close  touch  he  kept  himself  with 
the  world's  great  life  after  he  came  hither.     Dr. 
Dexter  has  said  that  "  probably  New  England  in 
the  first  quarter-century  had  not  another  so  rich 
exegetical  library."      But  it  was  not  simply  exe- 
getical  nor  theological.     There  were  twenty-four 
volumes  of  history,  six  of  philosophy,  fourteen 
of  poetry,  and  fifty-four  on   miscellaneous   sub- 
jects.    There  were  eleven  works  which  Brewster 
himself  had  printed  at  Leyden.     There  was  John 
Smith's    "Description    of    New    England"    and 


34  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

various  volumes  of  travel ;  there  were  volumes 
of  Machiavelli  and  Aristotle ;  there  was  Bacon's 
"  Advancement  of  Learning  "  ;  and  there  were 
books  on  English  government  and  politics.  Such 
was  the  environment  in  his  heroic  exile  of  the 
father  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers. 

It  is  difficult  for  us  to  realize  to-day  how  much 
the  struggle  of  church  polities  meant  in  England 
and  New  England  three  centuries  ago.  The 
early  Independents  were  not  theoretical  men,  but 
practical  Englishmen, —  men  of  the  sort  disposed 
to  say,  as  Englishmen  have  usually  been,  "  L,et 
well  enough  alone."  They  asserted  their  doctrine 
of  Independency  because  a  practical  exigency  com- 
manded it.  They  were  subjected  to  ecclesiastical 
tyranny ;  and,  as  Englishmen  of  common  sense 
and  honor,  they  knew  that  there  must  be  some  vaHd 
theory  adequate  to  the  situation,  and  they  found 
it.  Had  Episcopacy  dealt  justly,  there  would 
then  have  been  no  Independency.  When  Arch- 
bishop Tillotson  expressed  to  Increase  Mather, 
a  century  after  Brewster  became  post  of  Scrooby, 
his  abhorrence  of  the  course  of  the  Church  of 
England  at  that  time,  the  old  Puritan  exclaimed, 
"If  such  had  been  the  bishops,  there  had  never 
been  a  New  England ! "  But  the  bishops  were 
what  they  were;  and  Independency,  when  once 
compelled,  had  no  lack  of  theoretical  justification 


WILLIAM   BREWSTER  35 

from  its  founders.  John  Robinson  and  William 
Brewster  were  quite  able  to  hold  their  own  in 
controversy ;  and  William  Bradford  could  appeal 
to  Christ's  place  in  the  synagogue,  and  to  the 
words  of  Origen  and  others  of  the  Fathers,  in  his 
argument  that  the  proper  distinction  between 
clergy  and  laymen  in  the  church  was  no  funda- 
mental one.  Robinson  was  right  in  predicting 
that  "  those  who  oppose  them  in  England,  if  they 
might  come  to  a  place  of  peace  away  from  the 
Bishops,  would  do  as  they  did."  The  men  who 
came  to  Salem  in  1629  and  to  Boston  in  1630 
came  protesting  their  love  for  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, although  condemning  its  corruption.  But 
immediately  we  find  the  Salem  company  uniting 
to  form  a  church  by  covenant,  and  electing  their 
pastor  and  teacher,  with  Bradford  and  others 
coming  up  from  Plymouth  to  give  the  right  hand 
of  fellowship  at  the  ordination ;  and  Winthrop's 
company  shows  the  same  fraternal  spirit  toward 
Plymouth  when  they  form  their  church,  now  the 
First  Church  in  Boston.  Episcopacy  could  not 
live  then  on  this  soil  and  in  this  air.  We  can- 
not imagine  John  Wilson  tempted  to  read  the 
liturgy  one  month  after  he  reached  this  side  of 
the  ocean.  Indeed,  it  had  been  John  Cotton*s 
charge  to  the  Massachusetts  company  when  they 
came  away  that   "  they  should   take   advice   of 


^6  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

them  at  Plymouth  "  ;  and  we  find  Cotton  saying 
afterward  that  the  Plymouth  way  had  been  the 
"leaven"  of  all  the  New  England  churches. 
Whatever  there  was  contrary  quickly  succumbed 
to  the  power  of  that  simple  democratic  Congrega- 
tionalism. 

Distinctly  the  American  polity,  Independency 
has  profoundly  affected  every  other  polity,  not 
only  in  America,  but  in  all  the  world.  By  virtue 
of  its  influence,  Episcopacy  and  Presbyterianism 
are  both  no  longer  what  they  were.  The  Epis- 
copal bishop  of  Massachusetts  would  no  more 
meddle  with  Trinity  Church  in  the  choice  of  its 
minister  than  with  the  First  Church  or  the  Old 
South.  Puritanism  itself  has  won  the  universal 
honor  of  all  serious  religious  men  ;  and  among 
the  noblest  recent  tributes  to  it  have  been  those 
by  Phillips  Brooks,  Bishop  Lawrence,  and  Pro- 
fessor Nash  of  the  Episcopal  Theological  School 
at  Cambridge.  Affecting  other  polities  as  it  has 
done.  Independency  has  also  undeniably  at  times 
been  affected  by  them  in  its  turn,  and  this 
often  to  its  cost,  as  Unitarians  who  remember 
events  at  Saratoga  ought  not  to  need  be  told. 
Any  attempt  by  synods  or  conferences  to  formu- 
late doctrinal  bases  of  fellowship  by  which  Inde- 
pendent congregations  or  ministers  feel  under 
any    stress    to    measure    themselves    cometh    of 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER 


37 


evil  and  tends  to  confusion.  It  is  alien  to  the 
genius  of  the  polity,  and  is  to  be  disregarded  by 
every  genuine  Independent.  When  one  goes 
back  to  the  early  covenants  of  the  old  New 
England  churches  themselves,  one  is  deeply  im- 
pressed by  their  simplicity  and  breadth,  by  what 
we  may  rightly  term  their  modernness  as  com- 
pared with  the  creeds  and  confessions  of  most 
Congregational  churches  in  the  intervening  years. 

Politics    and    religion    with    the    Independent 
went  hand  in  hand.     Church  and  State  were  to 
him  two  instruments  for  advancing  the  kingdom 
of  God ;   and  in  the  same  meeting-house  where   [ 
he  came  to  pray  on  Sunday  he  came  to  vote  on    ! 
Monday.     You  devote  a  lecture  in  this  course  to 
Thomas  Jefferson  and  the  Influence  of  Democ- 
racy   on    Religion.      The    real    subject    of    this 
word  on  Brewster  is  the    Influence  of  Religion 
on    Democracy.      The    two    great   words    which 
the  Puritan  movement  evolved  or  first  made  cur- ; 
rent    and    potent    among    men    were  "Indepen-- 
dence "    and    "  Commonwealth  "  ;    and    both    of 
these  the  sturdy  and  fraternal  church   at  Plym- 
outh exemplified  in  highest  measure. 

The  Thursday  lecture,  in  John  Cotton's  day, 
was  meant  for  edification  and  for  admonition ;  and 
we  should  be  faithless  sons  of  the  Puritans  if 
here  to-day  we  dealt  simply  with  history,  and  did 


38  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

not — to  choose  the  Puritan  tdrm — make  "uses** 
of  the  history.  And  I  know  of  no  use  to  which 
we  can  put  it  better  than  that  pointed  out  by 
John  Cotton's  own  farewell  sermon,  "  God's 
Promise  to  His  Plantation,"  preached  to  the 
founders  of  Boston  as  they  sailed  away  from 
Southampton.  "  If  God  plant  us,  who  shall 
pluck  us  up  ?  "  he  asked,  charging  the  colonists 
to  make  themselves  "  trees  of  righteousness," 
and  exhorting  all  who  were  planted  at  home  or 
intended  to  plant  abroad  to  look  that  they  be 
"  rightly  planted."  "  Go  forth,  every  man  that 
goeth,  with  a  public  spirit,  looking  not  on  your 
own  things  only,  but  also  on  the  things  of 
others."  "  Look  well  to  the  plants  that  spring 
from  you,"  he  added,  "  that  is,  to  your  children, 
that  they  do  not  degenerate ";  for,  as  he  well 
reminded  them,  and  as  we  need  to  remind  our- 
selves to-day,  "  ancestors  of  a  noble,  divine  spirit  " 
cannot  save.  The  sins  of  the  children  shall  be 
upon  them ;  and  if  we,  the  sons,  to-day,  if  the 
people  of  this  great  republic,  are  planting  at  home 
or  abroad  any  trees  of  unrighteousness,  then  let 
us  not  fail  to  know  that  they  will  bear  for  us 
bitter  fruit.  If  we  are  laying  anywhere  in  the 
wide  world  foundations  in  iniquity,  then,  though 
we  build  upon  them  walls  of  wood,  hay,  and 
stubble,  or  gold,  silver,  and  precious  stones,  our 
work  will  fail. 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  39 

We  are  in  the  centennial  of  Jefferson's  admin- 
istration ;  the  year  is  the  centennial  of  the  birth 
of  Emerson.     Said  Emerson  half  a  century  ago  : 
"The  Americans   have  many  virtues,  but  they 
have  little  faith.     They  rely  on  the  power  of  a 
dollar:    they  are    deaf  to   a   sentiment.      They 
think  you  may  talk  the  north  wind  down  as  eas-  , 
ily  as  raise  society  ;  and   no  class  more  faithless  \ 
than  the  scholars  or  intellectual  men."     You  will 
also  remember  well  his  word  to  the  young  Amer- 
ican   scholar    facing    the    hundred    voices    which 
would  tell  him  that  the  first  duty  is  to  get  land 
and  money,  place   and   name.     How  is  it  after  ? 
half  a  century  ?     We  are  reading  William  James's 
stern  and  tonic  Puritan  word  upon  our  scholars' 
paralyzing  fear  of  poverty  ;  and  yesterday  our  re- 
vered Mary  Livermore,  with  her  fourscore  years  ^ 
of  experience,  spoke  this  word  :  "  A  large  minor-  ( 
ity,  if  not  a  majority,  of  average  Americans  are 
reckless  of  the  liberties  of  other  people.     They 
would  not  hesitate  to  risk  '  all  the  prized  charters  , 
of  the  human  race '  for  a  tariff  that  would  make  | 
them   rich  or    a  war  on  a   helpless  people  that  ■ 
would  open  to  them  a  market  for  their  particular 
products.     With  this  class  there  is  but  one  su- 
preme good  in  hfe, —  money.     Whatever  pays  is 
right- 
Such,  say  many  voices,  is  the  love  of  money  in 


40  WILLIAM   BRLWSTER 

the  republic  to-day.  How  does  the  love  of 
freedom  fare  r  Senator  Hoar,  in  the  same  speech 
in  which  he  warns  us  of  the  menace  of  monev  to 
the  republic,  also  tells  us  ot  the  distinguished  Re- 
publican senator  who  had  said  to  him  that  he 
had  come  to  regard  the  abolition  of  slavery  as  a 
mistake.  Few  leaders,  surelv,  of  the  partv  which 
still  claims  the  name  of  Abraham  Lincoln  would 
go  so  far  as  that ;  vet  the  word  finds  many 
echoes  —  and  our  general  recreancy  to  the  freed- 
men  of  the  South  is  gross.  "  The  clauses  of  the 
Constitution  that  protect  money  are  sacred ;  the 
clauses  that  protect  personal  and  political  rights 
are  not  too  sacred  to  be  explained  away." 

Lincoln  was  the  child  of  JefFerson,  whose 
influence  upon  relicrion  you  have  so  well  chosen 
to  emphasize  in  this  course  of  lectures.  "  The 
principles  of  Jefferson,"  said  Lincoln,  "  are  the 
definitions  and  axioms  of  free  society."  What 
were  the  principles  of  Jefferson  ?  W^hat  did  he 
aim  at  for  this  republic  and  for  the  world:  He 
dreamed  that  the  birth  of  this  republic  should 
mark  a  new  era  for  mankind.  We  were  not  here 
to  re-enact  the  historv  of  England  or  of  Rome. 
Humanity,  fraternity,  and  peace  were  at  our 
hands  to  supplant  the  ways  of  conquest,  war, 
and  blood.  "He  believed  that  Americans  might 
safelv  set  an  example  which  the  Christian  world 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  41 

should  be  led  by  interest  to  respect  and  at  length 
to  imitate.  He  would  not  consent  to  build  up  a 
new  nationality  merely  to  create  more  navies  and 
armies,  to  perpetuate  the  crimes  and  follies  of 
Europe.  The  central  government  at  Washing- 
ton should  not  be  permitted  to  indulge  in  the 
miserable  ambitions  that  had  made  the  Old 
World  a  hell  and  prostrated  the  hopes  of  hu- 
manity." 

How  is  it  with  us  as  we  keep  the  centennial 
and  put  Jefferson  into  a  Thursday  lecture  in 
John  Winthrop's  church?  How  is  it  with  us 
a  generation  after  Abraham  Lincoln?  Are  we 
hating  slavery  and  loving  freedom  more  and 
more  ?  Do  we  hate  war  more  ?  Has  posses- 
sion, indeed,  become  more  sacred  in  our  eyes 
than  personal  and  political  rights  ?  Have  we 
overcome  the  lust  of  territorial  aggrandizement, 
—  that  original  sin  of  nations,  as  Gladstone  so 
well  called  it?  Have  we  since  the  days  of  Jeffer- 
son and  James  Monroe  grown  steadily  more 
sensitive  to  the  rights  of  ruder  and  weaker 
peoples  struggling  for  independence  and  better 
things  ?  Have  we  come  to  attach  less  and  less 
credit  ever  to  guns  and  gunboats,  mammon  and 
manoeuvres,  in  the  process  of  civilization,  and  to 
cherish  more  and  more  the  proud  distinction  and 
high  office  which  for  the  century  following  JefFer- 


42  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

son  has  been  ours,  of  being  the  great  peace  power 

of  the  world  ? 

For  from  Jefferson  to  Lincoln,  despite  the 
shame  of  slavery,  we  certainly  were  the  central 
political  influence  among  the  nations,  the  primary 
world  power,  the  leaven  of  the  lump.  Our  con- 
stitution was  copied  in  each  new  constitution  ; 
our  theory  of  the  true  relation  of  Church  and 
State  has  been  conquering  all  nations  ;  our  sys- 
tem of  public  education,  founded  at  Plymouth 
by  our  fathers  almost  as  soon  as  they  landed,  has 
proved  a  contagious  example  for  the  world ;  na- 
tions and  men  everywhere  struggling  for  freedom, 
and  for  opportunity  have  turned  their  faces 
toward  us  as  they  prayed. 

How  is  it  with  us  in  this  centennial  time, 
measured  by  the  ideals  of  the  fathers,  by  our 
own  record,  and  the  world's  great  hope,  meas- 
ured by  Emerson  and  Jefferson  and  Plymouth 
Rock  ?  Are  the  moralities  and  the  spiritualities 
keeping  pace  with  the  materialities.''  It  surely 
was  not  pleasant  for  you  and  for  me,  sons  of  the 
Puritans,  to  read  but  yesterday  the  judgment  of 
the  Enghsh  statesman,  that  in  these  last  years 
America  had  ceased  to  be  a  moral  power,  in  the 
world,  and  had  dropped  back  to  the  level  of  the 
other  selfish,  warrmg  nations.  It  is  not  pleasant 
to  read  the  judgment  of  this  other  scholar,  that 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  43 

for  a  generation  our  political  fertility,  so  long  the 
world's  dominant  resource  and  hope,  has  largely 
ceased,  and  that  we  are  now  giving  to  the  world 
far  less  in  progressive  principle  and  method  than 
it  is  giving  us.  How  is  it?  Are  we  teaching 
Europe,  or  is  Europe  teaching  us,  pure  and 
efficient  municipal  government?  How  does  co- 
operative industry  stand  with  us  as  compared  with 
England  or  Italy  or  France?  Are  we  Switzer- 
land's teacher  or  backward  pupil  in  direct  legisla- 
tion and  rational  representation  ?  Do  we  teach 
New  Zealand,  or  does  she  teach  us,  how  to  deal 
with  coal  strikes  ?  Did  we  get  our  new  system 
of  land  registration  and  our  ballot  law  from 
Pennsylvania  or  from  Australia? 

Is  this  the  whole  picture  ?  It  is  not  the  whole 
picture.  But  it  is  the  part  on  which  the  Puritan 
asks  us  to-day  to  fix  our  solemn  attention.  It  is 
the  part  which  the  Puritan  commands  us  to  paint 
out.  He  bids  us  remember  that  no  fertility  and 
no  enterprise  and  no  superiority  in  iron  or  steel, 
in  engines  or  guns,  can  compensate  for  barrenness 
in  progressive  political  thought,  and  that  no 
''■  American  invasion  "  of  the  world  can  do  the 
world  or  do  ourselves  any  long  or  real  good,  which 
is  not  primarily  an  invasion  of  ideals,  of  freedom 
and  of  the  sovereignty  of  God.  Our  fathers 
were  the  first  colonists  in  human  history  —  that 


44  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

is  the  way  our  poet  puts  it  —  who  went  forth 
seeking  "not  gold,  but  God."  Are  we  their 
children  ?  —  that    is    the  question  which,  in  face 

I  of  what  confronts  us,  we  need  to  keep  asking. 
At  the  Pilgrim  Festival  in  New  York  in  1850, 
Webster  pictured  Elder  Brewster  entering  the 
room,  in  his  simple,  mild  austerity,  and  dwelling 
with  amazement  on  all  that  the  country  had  be- 
come since  the  small  beginnings  at  Plymouth. 
"  Are  you  our  children  ?  "  he  finally  makes  him 
exclaim.  "  Does  this  scene  of  elegance,  of  riches, 
of  luxury,    come    from    our    labors  ? "     And  he 

I  adds :  "  We  envy  you  not,  we  reproach  you  not. 

^  Be  rich,  be  prosperous,  if  such  be  your  allotment 
on  earth ;  but  live  always  to  God  and  to  duty." 
So  long  as  the  children  still  cherished  an  undying 
love  for  civil  and  religious  liberty,  so  long  the  great 
orator  was  sure  that  the  great  Elder  would  breathe 

'  his  benediction  on  their  festivals.  And  so  he 
would.  But  could  he  come  to  some  of  the  festi- 
tivals  to-day  of  those  who  name  themselves  still 
by  the  Pilgrim  name, —  could  he  mark  the  osten- 
tation, the  indulgence,  the  arrogance,  the  pride, — 
he  would  take,  be  sure,  no  such  easy  departure. 

I    Far,  far  indeed  would  he  pronounce  all  this  from 

"  the  spirit  and  the  aims  and  the  atmosphere  of  the 
men  who  signed  the  compact  on  the  "  May- 
flower." 


WILLIAM  BREWSTER  45 

Not  gold,  but  God ;  not  ourselves,  but  man- 
kind. "  Once  to  every  man  and  nation  comes  the 
moment  to  decide."  It  comes  with  the  fullness 
of  powers,  comes  when  the  man  and  the  nation 
are  passing  from  youth  into  maturity.  Emerson 
has  told  us  how  it  comes  to  the  young  scholar. 
So  it  comes  to  the  nation, —  the  temptation  to 
cease  the  eagle's  flight,  to  temper  the  strenuous- 
ness  of  the  spirit,  to  pause  in  the  high  emprise, 
w^th  its  stern  demands,  to  accept  the  beaten 
path,  the  easier  task,  the  quick  profit,  the  old 
way.  Get  land  and  money.  What  is  this  free- 
dom which  you  seek  for  men  ?  What  is  this 
peace  on  earth?  If,  nevertheless,  sounds  still 
the  Puritan  voice  from  the  heavens  above  to 
every  nation  under  heaven,  God  has  called 
you  to  the  service  of  progress,  called  you  to  be 
pioneers  of  liberty,  be  bold,  be  firm,  be  true. 
When  you  shall  say.  As  others  do,  so  will  I ; 
if  others  will  be  spoilers,  so  will  I  ;  I,  too,  will 
trust  in  my  great  guns ;  I  will  eat  the  good  of 
the  land,  and  let  equality  and  fraternity  go  until 
a  more  convenient  season, —  then  dies  the  soul 
in  you,  then  once  more  die  the  buds  of  hope 
and  prophecy  and  blessing  and  divine  opportu- 
nity, as  they  have  died  already  in  the  hundred 
nations  whose  wrecks  are  strewn  on  the  shores 
of  the  ages. 


46  WILLIAM  BREWSTER 

God  save  our  dear  republic  from  "  the  great 
refusal "  !  God  will  save  it.  And  he  will  save 
it  precisely  because,  as  the  wise  English  thinker 
told  us  here  in  Boston  twenty  years  ago,  it  had 
a  Puritan  youth  and  has  had,  more  than  any 
other  nation,  the  Puritan  discipline.  The  only 
real  politicians,  said  Socrates  to  the  Athenians, 
who  were  so  sadly  and  so  soon  to  prove  its  truth, 
were  those  who  kept  insisting  on  the  good  of 
righteousness  and  the  unprofitableness  of  iniquity. 
And  our  republic  shall  stand  because  there  shall 
not  fail  a  sufficiency  of  teachers  and  of  righteous 
men  who  shall  cherish  and  make  potent  the 
Puritan's  faith  in  the  sovereignty  of  God,  the 
fear  of  God,  which  alone  is  the  bulwark  of  lib- 
erty, as  it  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom. 

"  O  ye  who  boast 
In  your  free  veins  the  blood  of  sires  like  these, 
Lose  not  their  lineaments.     Should  Mammon  cling 
Too  close  around  your  heart,  or  wealth  beget 
That  bloated  luxury  which  eats  the  core 
From  manly  virtue,  or  the  tempting  world 
Make  faint  the  Christian  purpose  in  your  soul, 
Turn  ye  to  Plymouth's  beach,  and  on  that  rock 
Kneel  in  their  footprints,  and  renew  the  vow 
They  breathed  to  God." 


II 


Roger  Williams  and  His  Doctrine  of 
Soul-liberty 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  AND  HIS  DOC- 
TRINE OF  SOUL-LIBERTY. 

Lord  Macaulay,  with  his  famous  facility  for 
epigram  and  sweeping  assertion,  once  wrote :  "  In 
England  in  the  seventeeth  century  there  were 
only  two  great  creative  minds.  One  of  these 
produced  the  '  Paradise  Lost/  and  the  other  the 
'  Pilgrim's  Progress.'  "  It  is  my  wish  to-day  to 
show,  if  possible,  that  at  least  one  other  creative 
mind  was  working  beside  these  two ;  to  tell  you 
how,  in  the  very  years  that  the  trumpet-note  of 
"  Areopagitica  "  was  first  heard  in  England,  a  still 
bolder  assertion  of  liberty  was  made  by  a  friend 
of  Milton  in  America ;  and  how,  when  Bunyan 
was  dreaming  in  Bedford  jail  of  a  celestial  city, 
an  equally  intrepid  spirit  was  founding  a  city  at 
the  head  of  Narragansett  Bay,  in  which  no 
dreamer  or  prophet  should  ever  suffer  for  utter- 
ing his  message  to  the  world.  The  noble  de- 
fence of  freedom  in  "  Areopagitica  "  we  shall  never 
willingly  let  die.  The  great  dream  of  a  heavenly 
city  we  shall  always  cherish.  But  we  would  place 
beside  these  *'  assertors  of  the  soul "  another 
spirit,  the  man  who  first  in  the  modern  world 
created  a  state  that  was  trulv  free. 


so  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

Still  the  visitor  to  Providence  walks  along  the 
bank  of  the  Seekonk  River  and  looks  upon  the 
shattered  and  crumbling  rock  where  Roger  Will- 
iams landed.  The  rock  is  vanishing,  but  the 
principle  he  enunciated  has  shown  a  "  rocky 
strength "  that  will  outlive  all  monuments ;  and 
the  idea  embodied  in  the  obscure  colony  by  a 
fugitive  and  outlaw  is  now  accepted,  in  theory  at 
least,  by  every  civilized  State.  He  was  not  a 
saint.  No  aureole  played  about  his  head  in  the 
eyes  of  his  contemporaries.  His  faults  were 
obvious  and  insistent.  But  he  was  a  man  to  be 
reckoned  with  when  living ;  and,  being  dead,  he 
yet  speaketh. 

It  seems  strange  that  no  portrait  has  been 
preserved.  Accordingly,  upon  the  dome  of  the 
new  State  capitol  of  Rhode  Island  stands  no 
figure  of  Roger  Williams,  but  rather  a  figure 
symbolical  of  the  "independent  man"  that  he  was 
and  wanted  all  to  be. 

Records  of  his  early  life  are  scanty.  It  seems 
probable  that  he  was  a  Welshman,  and  born 
about  1 60 1.  We  find  him  subsequently  entered 
at  the  Charter-house  School  in  London,  and  then 
at  Pembroke  College,  Cambridge.  After  gradua- 
tion he  studied  law  with  Sir  Edward  Coke,  who 
was  drawn  to  Roger  Williams  by  that  same 
subtle  attraction  which  Williams  exerted  through- 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  51 

out  his  life.  The  man  who  was  the  intimate 
friend  of  Sir  Harry  Vane,  of  Cromwell  and 
Milton,  of  the  Governors  Winthrop,  father  and 
son,  and  who  drew  testimony  to  his  personal 
character  from  John  Cotton  and  Cotton  Mather, 
certainly  was  a  man  of  no  ordinary  power. 

But  he  developed  little  taste  for  the  law,  and 
soon  we  find  him  studying  theology  and  disput- 
ing on  religious  subjects.  Why  he  left  England 
we  do  not  know.  Long  before  he  left  he  became 
thoroughly  opposed  to  the  Established  Church 
and  all  its  ways.  In  1631  we  find  him  arriving 
at  Boston  on  the  ship  "  Lyon,"  thirty  years  of 
age,  of  fine,  sturdy  physique,  indomitable  energy, 
and  opinions  which  would  be  heard  from  speedily. 
Winthrop  chronicles  his  arrival  as  that  of  a 
"godly  minister"  ;  and,  if  godliness  be  utter  sin- 
cerity, unfaltering  devotion  to  the  ideal,  and  un- 
selfish desire  to  do  good,  Winthrop  was  right. 

We  have  no  time  to  chronicle  the  events  of  his 
varied  life,  and  no  need  to  go  over  the  thoroughly 
familiar  ground.  His  immediate  refusal  to  offi- 
ciate for  the  church  in  Boston  on  the  ground  that 
they  had  not  really  separated  from  the  Church 
of  England,  his  becoming  assistant  minister  at 
Salem,  in  spite  of  the  protest  of  the  General 
Court  at  Boston,  and  his  removal  to  the  tolerant 
atmosphere  of  Plymouth  are  known   to   us    all. 


52  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

At  Plymouth,  where  his  first  child  was  born,  he 
spent  two  happy  years,  surrounded  by  honor  and 
esteem.  Yet  Elder  Brewster  and  some  others 
looked  with  concern  upon  the  radical  opinions  of 
the  young  minister,  and  feared  precisely  what 
happened  later ;  namely,  that  he  would  depart 
from  all  churches  and  become  a  pure  individualist 
in  religion.  During  this  period  he  cultivated  the 
friendship  of  the  Indian  tribes  of  the  region,  and 
came  to  have  great  influence  with  their  sachems, 
especially  with  Massasoit  of  the  Wampanoags, 
father  of  King  Philip,  and  with  Canonicus  of  the 
Narragansetts.  "  My  soul's  desire,"  he  says  in 
a  later  letter,  "  was  to  do  the  natives  good."  And 
again  he  writes,  "  God  was  pleased  to  give  me 
a  painful  patient  spirit  to  lodge  with  them  in  their 
filthy  smoky  holes  (even  while  I  lived  at  Plymouth 
and  Salem)  to  gain  their  tongue." 

But  in  1634  he  returned  to  Salem  as  the  sole 
minister  of  the  Salem  church,  in  spite  of  the  de- 
mands of  the  Boston  magistrates  that  he  should 
not  be  ordained.  He  was  now  face  to  face  with 
the  entire  power,  religious  and  civil,  of  the  Mas- 
sachusetts Theocracy.  On  the  one  side  stood 
this  young  man,  unarmed  save  with  his  tremen- 
dous conviction,  with  no  support  in  the  churches 
or  governments  of  the  civilized  world ;  and  on 
the     other   side    Governor    Endicott    and   John 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  S3 

Cotton  and  the  entire  theocratic  claims  and 
powers  of  the  colony.  He  was  ardent,  eager, 
scornful  of  consequences,  with  a  conscience  mar- 
vellously tender  and  a  will  of  iron,  uniting  the 
chivalry  of  Sir  Galahad  with  the  polemic  skill  of 
Aquinas  and  the  missionary  zeal  of  Judson.  On 
the  other  side  were  the  men  we  know  so  well,  the 
men  with  whom  we  can  sympathize  in  their  grim- 
mest mood,  because  we  are  their  children,  the 
men  who  were  determined  that  the  truth  of  God 
as  they  understood  it  should  rule  their  infant 
colony,  and  that  the  vagaries  of  religious  caprice 
should  find  no  place  in  Massachusetts.  With 
the  quarrel  of  John  Endicott  and  Roger  Will- 
iams we  have  no  concern.  But  the  conflict  of 
eternal  principles  incarnate  in  these  men,  the  con- 
test of  the  communions  and  civilizations  which 
they  represented,  is  a  conflict  wide  as  the  world 
and  long  as  time.  Let  us  ask,  then,  what  it  was 
that  Roger  Williams  maintained  and  the  Theoc- 
racy condemned. 

First  of  all,  as  we  have  said,  he  publicly  and 
persistently  rebuked  the  Massachusetts  church 
for  not  abjuring  all  connection  with  the  English 
Church,  and  for  not  repenting  for  having  com- 
muned with  that  Church  on  English  soil.  The 
English  Church  was  to  him  a  nest  of  hateful  prel- 
acy.    He  boldly  condemned  the  conduct  of  the 


54  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

English  sovereign  in  speaking  of  Europe  as 
Christendom,  and  demanded  that  the  Massachu- 
setts church,  by  word  and  deed,  absolve  itself 
from  all  connection  with  English  worship.  These 
demands  were  simply  a  hastening  of  processes 
already  in  operation  ;  but  certainly,  when  made  by 
a  new-comer  in  a  colony  quite  dependent  on  the 
royal  favor,  the  man  who  makes  them  will  not 
know  the  blessing  of  the  peace-makers. 

Furthermore,  he  contended,  for  much  the  same 
reason,  that  an  oath  should  never  be  required  of 
an  unregenerate  man,  since  an  oath  is  an  act  of 
worship,  and  worship  cannot  be  forced.  In  one 
aspect  this  seems  merely  a  curious  and  harmless 
opinion.  What  Roger  WilHams  wanted  is  now 
allowed  in  nearly  every  State  in  the  Union,  where 
the  law  permits  affirmation  by  those  who  con- 
scientiously object  to  taking  oaths.  But,  as  the 
magistrates  were  just  at  that  time  becoming  sus- 
picious of  the  loyalty  of  some  of  the  inhabi- 
tants, and  were  on  the  point  of  imposing  a  free- 
man's oath,  the  demand  of  the  Salem  minister 
seemed  to  supply  aid  and  comfort  to  the  enemies 
of  the  State. 

Again,  Roger  Williams  contended  that  the 
charter  of  Massachusetts  was  invalid,  since  it  was 
not  based  on  any  purchase  from  the  Indians,  but 
was  merely  a  siezure  sanctioned  by  the  king.     He 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  55 

would  have  the  charter  returned  to  England.  He 
even  drafted  a  letter  to  the  king,  explaining  his 
objections  to  the  royal  patent,  and  proposing  a 
new  basis  for  acquiring  land  in  the  New  World. 
The  ethical  teacher,  judging  events  in  the  "  quiet 
and  still  air  of  delightful  studies,"  must  admit 
that  Roger  Williams  could  well  defend  his  posi- 
tion. Our  relations  with  the  Indians  of  America 
are  justified  on  biological  rather  than  ethical 
grounds.  We  look  back  to-day  on  far  more 
than  a  "  century  of  dishonor,"  and  may  not  ex- 
amine too  closely  our  title-deeds.  Doubtless  the 
King  of  England  gave  away  that  to  which  he  had 
but  shadowy  claim.  But  we  can  hardly  imagine 
the  consternation  produced  by  such  teaching  in  a 
colony  whose  very  right  to  existence  was  then 
called  in  question.  Had  they  suffered  so  many- 
things  in  vain  ?  Had  they  cleared  the  wilderness, 
built  churches  and  schools  and  towns,  only  now  to 
be  told  that  every  settlement  was  illegal  and  every 
acre  the  property  of  savage  foes  ?  At  this  day 
we  can  discuss  the  wrongs  of  the  Indian  without 
perturbation.  But  when  dusky  forms  are  skulk- 
ing through  the  forest  just  beyond  the  stockade, 
discussion  on  the  foundations  of  ethical  ownership 
is  attended  with  difficulty.  Although  Roger  Will- 
iams gladly  in  his  later  years  availed  himself  of 
a  charter  for  Rhode  Island,  yet  in  the  original  in- 


S6  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

stance  he  carefully  purchased  from  the  Indians 
the  land  on  which  he  settled.  If  he  was,  as 
John  Cotton  said,  "  conscientiously  contentious,*' 
he  was  also  rigidly  consistent. 

But  the  crowning  offence  of  the  Salem  minister 
was  his  steadfast  declaration  that  the  civil  magis- 
trate might  not  punish  breaches  of  the  first  table 
of  the  Decalogue.  That  first  table  relates  solely 
to  duties  toward  God  ;  and  a  man's  relation  to 
his  Maker  he  affirmed  to  be  altogether  above  and 
beyond  the  power  of  the  State.  Here  again 
Roger  Williams  seems  to  be  uttering  truth  that 
is  to  us  commonplace  and  axiomatic,  embodied  in 
every  court  of  every  State  in  our  Union,  accepted 
by  every  religious  denomination  and  every  code 
of  law  in  the  republic.  But  the  axioms  of  to- 
day are  the  heresies  and  anarchies  of  yesterday. 
On  no  such  principle  was  Massachusetts  founded. 
It  was  rather  modelled  after  the  old  Hebrew 
Commonwealth,  which  punished  blasphemy  as 
well  as  murder,  which  enforced  Sabbath-keeping 
as  truly  as  justice,  and  which  heard  from  the  lips 
of  inspiration  the  words :  "  Thine  eye  shall  not 
pity  and  thy  hand  shall  not  spare."  Roger 
Williams  had  brought  to  America  his  great 
doctrine  of  soul-liberty,  imagining  that  here  it 
would  find  congenial  soil  and  swiftly  become  a 
mighty  tree.     But  what  seemed  to  him  as  to  us  so 


ROGER  WILLIAMS 


57 


clear,  so  logical,  so  inevitable,  was  to  them  mon- 
strous and  exasperating  and  intolerable.  For  a 
time  at  every  session  of  the  General  Court  the 
young  minister  was  reproved  or  summoned  or 
enjoined.  At  last,  in  1635,  ^^^  specific  charges 
were  formulated,  and  Roger  Williams  was  exam- 
ined by  the  magistrates.  On  advice  of  the 
ministers  he  was  sentenced  to  depart  from  the 
colony  within  six  weeks,  banished,  or,  as  John 
Cotton  preferred  to  say,  "  enlarged "  out  of 
Massachusetts. 

There  will  probably  always  be  two  opposing 
judgments  regarding  this  famous  sentence  of 
banishment.  This  diversity  has  unfortunately 
tended  to  become  a  division  between  Massachu- 
setts and  Rhode  Island.  Defenders  of  Massa- 
chusetts, concerned  for  the  honor  of  their  State, 
have  attempted  to  show  that  Roger  Williams  was 
a  man  with  "windmills  in  his  head";  that  he 
was  a  Quixotic  reformer, —  an  Ishmaelite,  whose 
hand  was  against  every  man ;  and  that  a  young 
colony,  struggling  for  bare  existence,  could  not 
tolerate  such  a  personality  without  danger  of  disso- 
lution. This  is  the  view  of  Palfrey  and  Dexter 
and  Henry  Cabot  Lodge.  They  have  maintained 
that  he  was  banished  not  for  any  religious  convic- 
tion, but  solely  because  of  obstinacy,  contumacy, 
and  disturbance  of  the  peace.     And  it  has   not 


58  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

been  difficult  to  maintain  this  view,  since,  as  Pro- 
fessor Diman  has  well  said,  "  Massachusetts  was 
a  community  whose  early  eminence  in  letters 
afforded  it  marked  advantage  in  impressing  upon 
posterity  its  own  view  of  any  transaction  in  which 
it  bore  a  part." 

On  the  other  hand,  we  have  the  view  of  Pro- 
fessors Knowles  and  Gammell  and  Thomas  Dur- 
fee  and  Oscar  S.  Strauss,  who  maintain  that  Roger 
Williams  has  been  misrepresented  by  Puritan  his- 
torians, and  that  he  was  a  true  martyr  to  the 
doctrine  of  freedom  of  conscience  in  the  New 
World.  They  affirm  that,  though  there  were 
irritating  idiosyncrasies  in  the  temperament  of 
this  apostle,  though  he  was  doubtless  eccentric 
and  at  times  alarming,  yet  the  real  cause  of  the 
trouble  was  that  he  was  two  centuries  in  advance 
of  his  time,  and,  while  he  faced  the  sunrise  and 
the  future,  the  Massachusetts  colony  obstinately 
faced  the  sunset  and  the  dark.  The  most  judicial 
discussions  of  the  matter  are,  perhaps,  to  be 
found  in  the  recently  published  works  of  Cobb 
and  Richman.  The  more  deeply  we  study  the 
history  of  the  time,  the  more  clearly  we  perceive 
the  irrepressible  nature  of  the  conflict,  and  the 
more  genuine  becomes  our  sympathy  with  the 
great  protagonists.  To  approve  or  condemn 
either  Massachusetts  or  Williams  is  easy.  To 
understand  them  both  is  a  worthier  task. 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  59 

All  Christian  governments  of  the  seventeenth 
century  held  that  the  union  of  Church  and  State 
was  necessary  for  the  safety  of  the  State  and  the 
preservation  of  the  Church.  For  a  thousand 
years  this  doctrine  had  been  intrenching  itself  in 
Christendom,  until  it  was  practically  unquestioned 
by  the  powers  that  were.  Augustine,  Charle- 
magne, Luther,  Calvin,  believed  it  and  acted  on 
it.  Freedom  of  conscience  for  the  individual  was 
not  asserted  at  the  Reformation.  "  Cujus  regio, 
ejus  religio,"  was  the  decision  embodied  in  the 
Peace  of  Augsburg.  The  English  Reformation 
was  political  rather  than  religious,  and  demanded 
that  the  English  sovereign  should  be  both  in- 
dependent of  the  papal  see  and  absolute  head  of 
the  English  Church.  Luther  recoiled  from  the  ex- 
cesses of  Miinster,  and  dared  not  intrust  religion 
to  freedom  of  conscience.  The  result  of  the  Ref- 
ormation was  many  national  churches  in  place  of 
one  universal  church,  not  liberty  in  place  of 
authority.  If  religion  was  essential  to  the  weal 
of  the  people,  then  the  State  could  not  neglect  it. 
The  theocracy  which  Calvin  established  at 
Geneva  was  cruelly  logical  and  logically  cruel. 
The  first  Helvetic  Confession  declares,  "  The 
chief  office  of  the  magistrate  is  to  defend  religion 
and  to  take  care  that  the  word  of  God  be  purely 
preached."     The  Westminster  Assembly  affirmed. 


6o  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

"  The  civil  magistrate  hath  authority  and  it  is 
his  duty  to  take  order  that  unity  and  peace  be  pre- 
served in  the  church,  that  the  truth  of  God  be 
kept  pure  and  entire,  that  all  blasphemies  and 
heresies  be  suppressed,  all  corruptions  and  abuses 
in  worship  and  discipline  prevented  or  reformed, 
and  all  the  ordinances  of  God  duly  settled,  admin- 
istered, and  observed."  If  now  the  nations  of 
the  Old  World,  strong  and  well  established,  clung 
to  these  ideas,  how  tenacious  and  how  frantic 
must  have  been  the  attachment  to  them  on  the 
part  of  the  New  England  colony,  conscious  of  its 
weakness,  menaced  by  tyrants  on  the  one  side  and 
fanatics  on  the  other  !  It  had  been  instructed  by 
all  Christian  governments  of  the  Old  World,  and 
it  bettered  their  instructions.  In  the  very  year  of 
Roger  Williams's  arrival  the  General  Court  of 
Massachusetts  passed  this  resolution :  "  It  is  or- 
dered that  henceforth  no  man  shall  be  admitted  to 
the  freedom  of  this  commonwealth  but  such  as  are 
members  of  the  churches  within  the  limits  of  this 
jurisdiction."  No  voters  except  church  members, 
and  no  church  members  except  on  approval  of 
the  clergy, —  such  was  the  compact,  homogeneous, 
and  militant  organization  now  preparing  to  resist 
the  newest  thought  of  the  age.  By  as  much  as 
New  England  was  weaker  than  Old  England, 
by  so  much  more  did  it  resolve  on  the    policy 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  6i 

of  exclusion  of  dangerous  opinions.  Robert 
Baillie,  a  zealous  defender  of  the  Presbyterian 
faith  in  Scotland,  wrote  in  1643,  "They  in  New 
England  are  much  more  strict  and  rigid  than  we 
or  any  church  to  suppress  by  the  power  of  the 
magistrate  all  who  are  not  of  their  way." 

What  now  was  the  doctrine  of  "  soul-liberty  " 
brought  by  the  young  minister  into  the  rigid  and 
rigorous  ecclesiasticism  of  Massachusetts  ?  It  was 
far  more  than  a  doctrine  of  toleration.  On  this 
point  confusion  of  thought  still  exists.  Conceiv- 
ably, we  may  occupy  any  one  of  three  positions 
regarding  the  relations  of  the  civil  and  the 
religious  authority.  We  may  affirm  the  duty 
of  the  government  to  support  and  control  the 
institutions  of  religion;  we  may  affirm  as  a  con- 
cession to  human  weakness  the  expediency  of 
tolerating  false  views  of  religion  ;  or  we  may  affirm 
the  absolute  wrong  of  any  interference  by  the  gov- 
ernment in  matters  of  religious  faith.  It  was  not 
the  second  of  these  positions  —  the  duty  of  toler- 
ating false  opinions  —  on  which  Roger  Williams 
planted  his  feet.  It  was  the  third  and  distinctly 
different  position,  that  the  government  may  not 
decide  what  is  true  and  what  is  false  in  religion, 
may  neither  encourage  nor  repress  religious  doc- 
trine, that  it  must  refrain  both  from  tolerance  and 
intolerance,  and,  confining  itself  to  the  civil  realm 


6i  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

entirely,  leave  the  consciences  of  all  men  — 
Protestant,  Catholic,  Jew,  Atheist  —  absolutely- 
free. 

This  is  clear  from  his  explicit  writings.  In  his 
massive  volumes  on  "  The  Bloudy  Tenent  of 
Persecution  "  he  declares  that  the  "  great  cause 
of  the  indignation  of  the  Most  High  against  the 
state  and  country  is  .  .  .  that  all  others  dissenting 
from  them,  whether  Jews  or  Gentiles,  have  not 
been  allowed  civil  cohabitation  with  them,  but 
have  been  distressed  and  persecuted  by  them." 
It  is  clear  from  his  action  in  inserting  a  provision 
in  the  first  charter  of  Providence  that  "  otherwise 
than  this  [what  is  previously  forbidden]  all  men 
may  walk  as  their  consciences  persuade  them, 
every  one  in  the  name  of  his  God."  The  right 
to  believe  and  practise  one's  own  faith,— every 
man  wants  that.  But  Roger  Williams  wanted 
equal  rights  for  the  Turk  and  the  Atheist,  not 
because  it  was  expedient  to  tolerate  diversity,  but 
because  of  the  inherent  right  of  every  human  soul 
to  determine  its  own  relation  to  its  Maker. 

We  now  see  how  inevitable  was  the  struggle 
between  the  young  champion  of  soul-liberty  and 
the  guardians  of  Massachusetts  orthodoxy  and 
society.  Even  toleration  was  regarded  as  a  fatal 
blunder  by  the  leaders  of  England  and  America. 
A  noted  English    divine  of  that   period  wrote : 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  63 

"Toleration  will  make  the  Kingdom  a  chaos,  is  a 
grand  work  of  the  devil,  is  a  most  transcendental. 
Catholic,  and  fundamental  evil."  The  saintly 
Rutherford  could  say,  "  We  regard  the  toleration 
of  all  religions  as  not  far  removed  from  blas- 
phemy." The  lines  found  in  Governor  Dudley's 
pocket  after  death  express  the  fundamental  pur- 
pose of  his  hfe, — 

"  Let  men  of  God  in  court  and  churches  watch 
O'er  such  as  do  a  toleration  hatch." 

The  first  legal  code  for  the  government  of  Massa- 
chusetts was  drawn  up  by  the  Rev.  Nathaniel 
Ward,  of  Ipswich,  whose  wisdom  found  vent  in 
the  following  oracle  :  "  It  is  said  that  men  ought  to 
have  liberty  of  their  conscience,  and  that  it  is  perse- 
cution to  debar  them  of  it.  I  can  stand  amazed, 
then  reply  to  this  :  It  is  an  astonishment  to  think 
that  the  brains  of  men  should  be  parboiled  in  such 
impious  ignorance." 

Was,  then,  Roger  Williams,  like  Melchisedec, 
"without  father  or  mother"?  Were  there  no 
other  voices  in  the  world  pleading  for  freedom  ? 
Assuredly  there  were.  The  Brownists,  or  Sepa- 
ratists, of  England  had  for  some  years  affirmed 
this  doctrine ;  and  to  the  Anabaptists  of  Holland 
it  was  the  cardinal  truth.  To  the  despised  Ana- 
baptists —  and  what  band   of  truth-bearers  have 


64  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

not  been  at  first  despised  ?  —  belongs  the  honor 
of  recalling  the  Christian  Church  from  the  severity 
and  cruelty  of  the  Old  Testament  to  the  kindli- 
ness and  charity  of  the  New  Testament.  To  the 
Anabaptists,  in  spite  of  crudities  and  excesses, 
belongs  the  honor,  not  of  begging  for  toleration, 
but  of  asserting  each  man's  right  to  worship  or 
not  to  worship  in  his  own  way.  One  of  them, 
Hendrick  Terwoot,  of  Flemish  extraction,  who 
died  at  the  stake  in  1575,  wrote,  while  in  prison, 
"  the  first  declaration  in  favor  of  complete  re- 
ligious liberty  made  on  English  soil  "  :  "  Oh,  that 
they  would  deal  with  us  according  to  natural  rea- 
sonableness and  evangelical  truth,  of  which  our 
persecutors  so  highly  boast !  For  Christ  and  his 
disciples  persecuted  no  one.  On  the  contrary 
Jesus  hath  taught :  Love  your  enemies,  bless 
them  that  curse  you,  &c  ....  From  all  this  it  is 
clear,  that  those  who  have  the  one  true  gospel 
doctrine  and  faith  will  persecute  no  one,  but  will 
themselves  be  persecuted."  Robert  Browne,  who 
seems  to  have  learned  his  doctrine  from  the  Ana- 
baptists of  Norwich,  wrote,  "  The  magistrates 
have  no  ecclesiastical  authority  at  all,  but  only  as 
any  other  Christians,  if  so  be  they  be  Christians." 
In  1626  —  five  years  before  the  landing  of  Roger 
Williams  in  Boston  —  there  were,  as  Professor 
Vedder  tells  us,  eleven  Baptist  churches  in  Eng- 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  65 

land  teaching  the  doctrine  of  complete  religious 
liberty.  We  all  know  how  the  teaching  of  these 
small  religious  bodies  found  echo  in  the  organ 
voice  of  Milton,  and  how  sympathetic  were  the 
great  souls  of  Oliver  Cromwell  and  Sir  Harry 
Vane.  Roger  Williams,  the  friend  of  these  dar- 
ing spirits  and  the  representative  of  all  the 
humble  protesting  congregations  in  England  and 
Holland,  stood  forth  in  America  to  challenge  the 
traditions  of  the  centuries  and  usher  in  the  dawn 
of  God's  new  day. 

But  Massachusetts  feared  that  dawn,  and  she 
had  nearly  the  whole  world  with  her.  In  1635 
the  magistrates  formulated  four  distinct  charges 
against  the  Salem  minister  :  — 

First,  that  the  magistrate  ought  not  to  punish 
the  breaches  of  the  first  table,  otherwise  than  in 
such  cases  as  disturb  the  public  peace. 

Secondly,  that  he  ought  not  to  tender  an  oath 
to  an  unregenerated  man. 

Thirdly,  that  a  man  ought  not  to  pray  with 
such,  though  wife  and  child,  etc. 

Fourthly,  that  a  man  ought  not  to  give  thanks 
after  sacrament,  nor  after  meat,  etc. 

The  last  two  charges  are  so  petty,  relating 
merely  to  scruples  about  family  prayer,  that  we 
cannot  believe  that  they  touch  the  gravamen  of 
his  offence.     The  second  charge,  relating  to  the 


66  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

taking  of  oaths,  shows  that  Roger  Williams  de- 
sired in  certain  cases  what  is  almost  everywhere 
now  allowed, —  a  judicial  affirmation  in  place  of  a 
calling  on  God  to  witness.  But  the  first  charge 
contains  the  real  reason  of  the  commotion.  It 
rightly  states  Roger  Williams's  doctrine, —  that 
the  magistrate  might  not  interfere  with  any  man's 
inner  life,  with  his  worship  or  opinions,  so  long 
as  public  peace  was  not  disturbed.  Here  is  the 
doctrine  of  soul-liberty  springing  full-grown  into 
the  New  World,  never  again  to  retire.  But  to 
the  clergy  such  doctrine  was  intolerable.  Why 
should  men  have  liberty  of  thought  more  than 
liberty  of  action  ?  Is  not  the  real  deed  always 
interior?  and,  if  the  government  is  to  preserve 
morality,  must  it  not  deal  with  the  beliefs  which 
are  the  basis  of  conduct  ?  Free  religion  was  as 
abhorrent  as  the  doctrine  of  free  love  in  our  age. 
It  meant  the  loosing  of  all  ties,  the  undermining 
of  the  entire  social  and  legal  order.  The  theoc- 
racy of  Massachusetts  was  modelled  on  the  Mosaic 
pattern,  its  laws  following  the  old  Deuteronomic 
code.  Its  courts  had  studied  long  and  deeply 
the  command,  "  Thou  shalt  not  suffer  a  witch  to 
live,"  and  the  statute  which  ordered  the  blas- 
phemer to  be  stoned.  The  Puritans  had  not 
come  out  into  the  American  wilderness  to  offer 
their  new  homes   as   shelter  to   all    the  unclean 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  67 

birds  of  Europe.  They  had  not  come  with  a 
vision  of  a  land  where  each  man  might  do  and 
think  as  he  pleased.  They  had  come  to  incar- 
nate in  institutions  certain  definite,  rigid  convic- 
tions and  to  prevent  any  opposing  institutions 
from  finding  a  foothold  beside  them.  They  had 
come  to  escape  a  tyranny  which  they  had  found 
hateful  and  to  establish  a  tyranny  which  they 
believed  beneficent  and  essential.  The  colony  of 
Massachusetts  was  not  to  be  like  the  famous 
sheet  let  down  from  heaven,  full  of  four-footed 
beasts  and  creeping  things :  it  was  to  be  a  garden 
of  the  Lord,  where  a  divinely  ordained  order  of 
gardeners  were  to  separate  weeds  from  flowers, 
and  pluck  up  every  weed  by  the  roots.  To  wel- 
come all  faiths  was  to  confess  that  the  false  was 
as  good  as  the  true.  To  proclaim  toleration  of 
error  was  to  assist  in  its  propagation.  To  allow 
free  thinking  was  soon  to  see  free  action.  To 
offer  welcome  to  every  hair-brained  enthusiast 
was  to  endanger  the  new  Commonwealth  un- 
speakably, and  to  connive  at  heresy  and  disinte- 
gration. It  was  into  such  a  colony,  possessed  of 
such  ideas,  that  Roger  Williams  stepped  from 
the  good  ship  "  Lyon,"  bringing  a  doctrine  of 
soul-liberty  which  was  in  itself  a  criticism  on 
every  institution  in  the  colony,  himself  the  fore- 
most living  apostle  of  non-conformity  and  indi- 


68  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

vidualism.  He  was  right,  but  he  stood  almost 
alone.  Massachusetts  was,  judged  by  our  pres- 
ent standards,  in  the  wrong ;  but  civilization  and 
historical  Christianity  were  with  her.  Not  until 
1833  was  the  standing  order  abolished  on  Massa- 
chusetts Bay.  Not  until  about  the  same  time  did 
the  churches  of  Connecticut  dare  to  go  alone. 
But,  in  1 63 1,  Roger  Williams  looked  Massachu- 
setts in  the  face,  and  wrote:  "Constantine  and 
the  good  emperors  are  confessed  to  have  done 
more  hurt  to  the  name  and  crown  of  Christ  than 
the  bloody  Neros  did.  .  .  .  Forcing  of  conscience 
is  a  soul-rape,  .  .  .  The  civil  sword  may  make  a 
nation  of  hypocrites  and  anti-Christians,  but  not 
one  Christian.  .  .  .  Persons  may  with  less  sin  be 
forced  to  marry  whom  they  cannot  love  than  to 
worship  where  they  cannot  believe.'* 

If  now  we  ask  the  old  unprofitable  question 
whether  Roger  Williams  was  banished  for  purely 
religious  or  for  political  reasons,  we  see  that  vari- 
ous answers  may  be  given.  If  we  at  this  day  are 
unable  sharply  to  divide  between  religion  and 
politics,  certainly  the  seventeenth  century  was 
unable  to  do  so.  The  phraseology  of  the  decree 
of  banishment  seems  to  make  it  clear  that  the 
cause  was  the  promulgation  of  obnoxious  opin- 
ion :  "  Whereas,  Mr.  Roger  Williams,  one  of  the 
elders  of  the  church  at  Salem  hath  broached  and 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  69 

divulged  divers  new  and  dangerous  opinions 
against  the  authority  of  the  magistrates ;  as  also 
writ  letters  of  defamation  both  of  the  magistrates 
and  churches  here,  and  that  before  any  conviction 
and  yet  maintained  the  same  without  any  retract- 
ing ;  it  is  therefore  ordered,"  etc.  On  the  other 
hand,  when  the  exiled  apostle  reviews  his  own 
career,  he  lays  emphasis  on  his  action  regarding 
Separation  and  the  royal  charter  as  being  the  chief 
cause  of  his  troubles.  Seldom,  indeed,  can  we 
trace  the  tragedy  of  history  to  any  one  cause 
alone,  or  exactly  assign  praise  and  blame  to  the 
participants.  If  we  cannot  say,  even  after  forty 
years,  whether  the  causes  of  our  great  Civil  War 
were  economic  or  ethical,  if  we  cannot  clearly 
distinguish  in  the  recent  Spanish  War  between 
the  altruistic  and  the  imperialistic,  small  won- 
der that  we  cannot  easily  say  whether  the  chief 
emphasis  of  the  Puritan  condemnation  was  on 
the  inner  religious  conviction  or  the  semi-po- 
litical action  of  Roger  Williams.  Perhaps  the 
sanest  judgment  is  that  of  the  latest  historian, 
Mr.  Richman,  who,  writing  with  the  approval 
of  James  Bryce,  declares,  "  Roger  Williams  of- 
fended against  the  Puritan  Theocracy  both  by 
his  religious  opinions  and  by  certain  of  his  opin- 
ions which  were  ethico-political ;  his  offence  upon 
the  score  of  religion   being  primary  and    funda- 


70  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

mental,  and  that  upon  the  score  of  politics  inci- 
dental and  contributory." 

If  now  we  follow  Roger  Williams  into  exile,  we 
shall  see  that  the  dreamer  was  also  a  true  leader 
of  men.  After  that  terrible  "fourteen  weeks  in 
which  he  knew  not  what  bed  and  board  did 
mean,"  and  a  brief  sojourn  at  what  is  now  Reho- 
both,  he  appeared  with  four  or  five  companions 
on  the  Seekonk  (Blackstone)  River,  and  landed  at 
the  famous  rock  still  shown  in  Providence.  Sub- 
sequently he  passed  around  Fox  Point,  and  land- 
ing near  a  spring  of  clear  fresh  water,  expressed 
his  unswerving  faith  by  naming  his  new  resting- 
place  Providence.  Evidently,  this  man  was  one 
who 

"  Wrought  in  a  sad  sincerity ; 
Himself  from  God  he  could  not  free." 

We  thus  see  that  Roger  Williams  was  no  mere 
theorist,  but  the  founder  of  a  state.  He  had 
small  interest  in  pietistic  doctrines  of  liberty.  His 
profound  interest  was  in  creating  a  "  refuge  for 
distressed  consciences."  Others  had  preached 
religious  liberty.  Many  men,  before  Columbus, 
had  asserted  that  the  world  was  round ;  but  Co- 
lumbus, by  actually  sailing  over  the  horizon, 
changed  geographical  speculation  into  tangible 
fact.  Roger  Williams  was  a  Columbus  who  dared 
to  incarnate  what  he  believed  into  actual  enter- 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  71 

prise,  and  to  pass  from  theory  into  practice.  He 
acted  on  his  own  principle.  He  was  intensely 
practical,  and  no  doctrine  had  any  interest  for 
him  except  as  transmuted  into  life.  Having  pur- 
chased from  the  Indians  land  at  the  head  of  the 
Narragansett  Bay,  as  he  felt  that  Massachusetts 
should  have  done  in  making  her  first  settlement, 
he  divided  this  land  among  twelve  associates.  He 
did  not  think  as  yet  of  a  state,  but  simply  of  a 
community.  No  man  was  ever  more  thoroughly 
free  from  personal  ambition.  The  first  president 
of  the  settlement  was  John  Coggeshall,  not  Roger 
Williams.  Two  years  later  a  compact  was  drawn 
up,  and  signed  by  thirteen  persons.  This  unique 
and  immortal  document  has  been  compared  by 
Professor  Diman  with  the  compact  signed  in  the 
cabin  of  the  "Mayflower,"  and  is  certainly  quite 
as  prophetic  of  the  future.  It  reads  as  follows: 
"  We  whose  names  are  here  underwritten,  being 
desirous  to  inhabit  in  the  town  of  Providence,  do 
promise  to  submit  ourselves  in  active  or  passive 
obedience  to  all  such  orders  or  agreements  as  shall 
be  made  for  the  public  good  of  the  body  in  an 
orderly  way  by  the  major  consent  of  the  present 
inhabitants,  masters  of  families,  incorporated  to- 
gether into  a  township,  and  such  others  whom 
they  shall  admit  into  the  same,  only  in  civil 
things." 


72  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

That  phrase  "only  in  civil  things,"  by  whom- 
soever written,  distinguishes  the  founding  of 
Rhode  Island  from  the  founding  of  every  other 
state  which,  up  to  that  time,  the  world  had  seen. 
It  gives  the  founder  a  unique  and  sure  place 
among  the  leaders  of  humanity. 

Let  us  now  pass  on  to  notice  some  of  the 
consequences  of  this  peculiar  settlement  of  Rhode 
Island,  in  its  subsequent  history.  The  initial 
impulse  in  any  community  is  likely  to  endure ; 
and  the  State  of  Rhode  Island  to-day  feels  in 
every  fibre  of  its  body  politic  the  influence  of 
Roger  Williams  and  his  associates.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  understand  any  phase  of  Rhode  Island 
life  apart  from  the  early  history  of  the  colony. 

In  the  first  place,  Rhode  Island  suffered  the 
common  fate  of  those  who  are  resolved  on  hos- 
pitality. It  found  that  hospitality  at  times 
abused,  and  it  became  in  its  first  days  a  refuge 
for  able  but  erratic  men.  Quaintly,  Winthrop 
writes,  "In  Providence  also  the  devil  was  not 
idle."  Hither  came  from  Massachusetts  and 
England  the  restless  spirits  who  could  not  abide 
established  forms  of  any  kind.  Rhode  Island 
became  to  Massachusetts  what  Holland  was  to 
Spain.  Anne  Hutchinson,  being  tried  for  heresy 
and  banished,  found  a  peaceful  home  by  Narra- 
gansett  Bay.     Samuel  Gorton,  whom  we  should 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  73 

now  call  an  anarchist,  was  described  by  Roger 
Williams  as  "  having  abused  high  and  low  at 
Aquedneck  [that  is  Newport],  bewitching  and 
madding  poor  Providence."  John  Clarke  and 
William  Coddington,  whose  antinomian  views 
rendered  them  intolerable  in  the  northern  colony, 
were  kindly  received  at  Narragansett  Bay.  But 
communities  composed  of  so  divers  and  inhar- 
monious elements  found  it  exceedingly  difficult 
to  co-operate  in  any  form  of  government.  The 
four  towns.  Providence,  Warwick,  Newport,  and 
Portsmouth,  were  frequently  at  swords'  points ; 
and  the  strong,  energetic  personalities  that  Rhode 
Island  had  welcomed  across  her  borders  sometimes 
uttered  discordant  notes  that  threatened  utterly 
to  make  the  music  mute.  But  no  abuses  could 
make  Roger  Williams  repudiate  his  fundamental 
principles,  no  unhappy  results  could  drive  him 
from  his  position.  In  his  "  Bloudy  Tenent  of 
Persecution "  he  had  fully  expounded  his  own 
doctrine  ;  and  now,  in  his  "  Parable  of  the  Ship," 
he  explained  its  application  to  civil  affairs.  When 
told  that  his  principles  would  not  permit  magis- 
trates to  enforce  any  law,  he  replied  with  this 
parable : — 

"  There  goes  many  a  ship  to  sea,  with  many 
hundred  souls  in  one  ship,  whose  weal  or  woe  is 
common,  and  is   a  true  picture   of  a  common- 


74  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

wealth  or  a  human  combination  of  society.  It 
hath  fallen  out  sometimes  that  both  Papists  and 
Protestants,  Jews  and  Turks,  may  be  embarked 
into  one  ship,  upon  which  supposal  I  do  affirm 
that  all  the  liberty  of  conscience  that  I  ever 
pleaded  for  turns  on  these  two  hinges,  that 
none  of  the  Papists,  Protestants,  Jews,  or  Turks, 
be  forced  to  come  to  the  ship's  prayers  or  wor- 
ship, if  they  practise  any.  I  further  add  that  I 
never  denied  that,  notwithstanding  this  liberty, 
the  commander  of  the  ship  ought  to  command 
the  ship's  course,  yea,  and  also  to  command  that 
justice,  peace,  and  sobriety  be  kept  and  practised, 
both  among  the  shipmen  and  all  the  passengers. 
If  any  one  of  the  seamen  refuse  to  perform  their 
services,  or  passengers  pay  their  freight,  if  any 
refuse  to  help  in  person  or  in  purse  toward  the 
common  charge  and  defence,  if  any  refuse  to  obey 
the  common  laws  and  orders  of  the  ship,  concern- 
ing their  common  peace  or  preservation,  and  if 
any  shall  mutiny  and  rise  against  their  com- 
manders and  officers,  if  any  should  preach  or 
write  that  there  ought  to  be  no  commanding 
officers,  because  all  are  equal  in  Christ,  therefore 
no  masters,  no  officers,  no  laws,  nor  corrections, 
nor  punishment,  I  say  I  never  denied,  but  in 
such  cases  whatever  is  pretended,  the  commander 
or  commanders   may  judge,  resist,  compel,  and 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  75 

punish   such   transgressors   to    their    deserts  and 
merits." 

John  Stuart  Mill  or  W.  E.  H.  Lecky  could 
not  more  lucidly  and  cogently  express  the  essen- 
tial doctrine  of  civil  liberty  and  the  essential  prin- 
ciple of  true  democracy.     Thus  at  the  head  of 
Narragansett    Bay  soul-liberty    led  straight  into 
democracy.     The    "refuge    for    distressed   con- 
sciences "  became  the  nursery  of  the  civil  liberty, 
and  the  defender  of  faith  became  the  asserter  of 
the  rights  of  man.     No  other  colony  went  as  far 
as    Rhode  Island    in  proclaiming    religious  free- 
dom.    The    "Toleration    Act"    of    Maryland 
offered  full  rights  to  every  believer  in  the  Trin- 
ity:  Rhode    Island  offered   them  to  all.     Penn- 
sylvania would  not  allow  Deist  or  Jew  to  hold 
office.     But    from   the   beginning   Rhode   Island 
offered  to  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men    asy- 
lum and  welcome.     When  the  first  charter  was 
procured  in   1642,  it   contained  no  reference  to 
any  power  over  religious  faith.     Henceforth  the 
problem  of  the  colony  was  to  reconcile  extreme 
individualism  with  social  and  political  co-opera- 
tion.    The  conflict  of  these  two  principles  is  the 
history  of  the  State.     In  Massachusetts  the  laws 
had  to  be  modified  to  create  liberty.     In  Rhode 
Island,  liberty  had  to  be  defined  and  directed  in 
order  to  establish   law.     Rhode   Island   was  the 


76  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

first  of  the  colonies  to  legislate  against  slavery, 
and  the  first  to  declare  independence  of  Great 
Britain, —  in  May,  1776.  For  the  same  reason 
it  was  the  last  to  adopt  the  Federal  Constitution, 
giving  at  last  its  consent  by  a  vote  of  34  to  32, 
and  attaching  to  its  consent  a  bill  of  rights  con- 
sisting of  eighteen  articles  and  twenty-one  pro- 
posed amendments  to  the  Constitution. 

Out  of  the  spirit  incarnated  by  Roger  Will- 
iams, and  expressed  in  Rhode  Island,  came  the 
remarkable  charter  of  Brown  University  in  1764, 
which  contains  only  two  provisions  regarding  the 
character  of  the  instruction  to  be  offered.  First, 
"  that  the  Public  Teaching  shall  in  General  Re- 
spect the  Sciences," — this  in  an  age  when 
modern  science  was  struggling  to  the  birth. 
Secondly,  after  providing  that  each  of  the  chief 
religious  denominations  then  existing  in  America 
should  hold  place  on  the  Corporation,  this  sig- 
nificant declaration  was  made  :  "  Into  this  Liberal 
and  Catholic  Institution  shall  never  be  admitted 
any  Religious  Tests,  but  on  the  contrary  all  the 
Members  hereof  shall  forever  enjoy  full  free  Ab- 
solute and  uninterrupted  Liberty  of  Conscience." 
Not  till  ninety  years  later  w^as  any  dissenter  ad- 
mitted to  Oxford  or  to  Cambridge  University. 

It  is  time  for  us  to  say  a  word  regarding  the 
temper  and  disposition  of  the  man  whose  doctrine 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  77 

we  have  studied.  Seldom  have  dignity  of  manner 
and  sweetness  of  temper  been  so  combined  with 
relentless  logic  and  inflexible  tenacity  of  purpose. 
If  Cotton  called  him  a  "  haberdasher  of  small 
questions,"  yet  the  same  Cotton  loved  him  as  a 
brother.  If  Bradford  spoke  of  him  as  "  unsettled 
in  judgment,"  he  yet  described  him  as  having 
"  many  precious  parts."  Edward  Winslow  op- 
posed him,  but  spoke  of  his  "lovely  carriage." 
Roger  Williams  loved  peace,  but  was  forced  to 
fight.  He  was  a  wanderer  for  conscience*  sake, 
but  ever  longed  for  home.  No  controversy  could 
imbitter  him,  no  ecclesiastical  opposition  involve 
him  in  personal  enmity.  He  saved  Massachu- 
setts time  and  again  from  the  Indians.  He 
fought  the  hierarchy  while  sending  them  letters 
of  personal  affection.  He  replied  to  the  severe 
strictures  of  John  Cotton  with  sharp  rhetoric,  yet 
began,  "  I  desire  that  my  rejoinder  shall  be  as  full 
of  love  as  truth."  His  imagination  is  like  that 
of  Jonathan  Edwards.  His  speech  overflows 
with  striking  metaphor  or  quaint  conceit.  An  old 
Puritan  chronicler  writes  (quoted  by  Cobb) : 
"  This  child  of  Light  walked  in  Darkness  about 
forty  years,  .  .  .  yet  did  not  his  root  turn  into 
rottenness.  The  Root  of  the  Matter  abode  in 
him." 

At  the  age  of  seventy-eight  we  find  the  apostle 


78  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

of  Rhode  Island  feeble,  broken,  poor,  but  still 
serene,  and  bating  not  a  jot  of  heart  or  hope. 
He  was  buried  near  the  clear  spring  where  he  first 
landed.  The  spring  now  flows  underground, 
buried  and  forgotten  ;  but  from  his  life  issues  an 
unfailing  contribution  to  the  freedom  and  happi- 
ness of  humanity. 

If  what  we  have  said  be  true,  you  will  perceive 
that  the  personality  and  principles  of  Roger  Will- 
iams possess  far  more  than  an  antiquarian  interest. 
Eternal  vigilance  will  be  the  price  of  our  liberty. 
Continually  to-day  we  need  to  apply  the  old 
doctrine  to  the  modern  life.  Whenever  govern- 
mental support  of  denominational  teaching  is 
urged  or  offered,  then  the  spirit  of  Roger  Will- 
iams should  awake  in  us  to  protest.  If  it  can  be 
shown  that  exemption  from  taxation  allowed  the 
smallest  right  of  control,  then  such  exemption 
should  rightly  be  declined  by  every  church.  The 
expansion  of  the  United  States  which  is  now  tak- 
ing place,  whether  for  weal  or  woe,  will  constantly 
bring  before  this  nation  great  problems  which  will 
never  be  settled  until  they  are  settled  right ;  that 
is,  until  they  are  settled  on  the  basis  of  the  teach- 
ing of  Roger  Williams.  The  application  of  that 
teaching  must  be  made  afresh  from  year  to  year, 
but  the  principle  itself  must  never  be  called  in 
question    by  Americans.     Whenever  in   modern 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  79 

times  the  law  of  evolution  is  so  misinterpreted  as 
to    invalidate    the    laws   of  ethics,  whenever  the 
"survival  of  the  fittest"  is  supposed  to  mean  the 
surviv^al  of  the  strongest,  when  supposed  necessity 
or  alleged  profit  is  made  the  excuse  for  depriving 
another  man  or  another  nation  of  its  liberty,  then 
the  spirit  of  Roger  Williams  should  be  summoned 
from  the  vasty  deep,  that  it  may  speak  in  trumpet 
tones  to  recall  us  to  ourselves.     This  apostle  of 
liberty  denied  two   hundred  and  fifty  years  ago 
that   "Christian    kings,    so   called,  are   invested 
with  a  right  by  virtue  of  their  Christianity  to  take 
and  give  away  the  lands  and  countries  of  other 
men."     He  was  persistently  against  every  inter- 
ference  with    self-government,    home   rule,   and 
hberty  for  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.     He 
.  preferred   Democracy,  with  all   its  perils,  to  the 
assumption  of  Divine  Right,  with  all  its  hateful 
splendor. 

We  need  also  to  exalt  the  principles  of  Roger 
Williams  whenever  in  our  day  the  claims  of  the 
individual  are  in  danger  of  being  ignored.  A 
century  ago  the  word  "independence"  was  a 
word  to  conjure  with.  Now  it  awakens  little 
enthusiasm:  interdependence  is  the  great  truth 
m  which  men  are  now  interested ;  and  society  is 
frequently  treated  as  an  organism,  in  whose 
mighty    development    the    individual     is     over- 


8o  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

shadowed  and  forgotten.  The  brotherhood  of 
man,  the  amelioration  of  humanity,  the  federa- 
tion of  the  world,  the  progress  of  the  species,  are 
phrases  on  all  our  lips,  and  concepts  which  catch 
and  hold  the  public  mind.  We  live  in  the  day 
of  combination  and  consolidation,  when  isolation 
is  defeat,  and  division  is  frequently  death.  The 
ends  of  the  world  are  growing  together,  and  the 
progress  of  the  race  is  accelerated  to  an  amazing 
degree.  But  we  must  remember  that  the  value 
of  the  brotherhood  of  man  depends  on  the  in- 
dividuals who  make  up  the  brotherhood.  The 
progress  of  the  species  is  impossible  apart  from 
the  progress  of  the  units  composing  the 
species ;  the  success  of  federation  depends  on 
having  real  men  to  federate ;  and  the  advance 
of  humanity  is  a  dream,  apart  from  the  ad- 
vance of  separate  individual  men  and  women. 
The  millennium  will  not  come  by  paper  pro- 
grammes or  acts  of  Congress.  It  will  come 
by  the  millennial  spirit  of  freedom  and  loyalty, 
by  the  love  of  liberty  and  faith  in  law  arising 
in  the  heart  of  one  man,  and  then  communi- 
cating themselves  to  millions  of  others,  as  echoes 
that  grow  forever  and  forever. 

Let  us  learn  also  to  tolerate  the  man  of  vision, 
even  if  he  be  clothed  in  camel's  hair,  and  insist 
on  eating  wild  honey.     They  that  live  delicately 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  8i 

in  kings'  houses  may  be  far  more  congenial  com- 
panions at  modern  social  functions ;  but  the  men 
whose  voices  ring  out  among  the  crags  of  the 
wilderness  are,  after  all,  the  true  forerunners  of 
the  Messiah.  "  Behold,  this  dreamer  cometh," 
said  Joseph's  brethren  scornfully ;  but,  until  the 
man  of  the  dream  does  come,  the  man  with  a 
hoe,  the  man  with  a  purse,  and  the  man  with 
a  pen  sit  helpless  and  useless. 

The  men  who  disturb  the  smooth  surface  of 
life  are  often  divinely  sent.  Some  bless  the 
world  by  aiding  in  its  harmonious  development. 
They  quietly  co-operate  with  the  general  ten- 
dency of  society,  and  help  it  onward.  Other 
men  help  the  world  by  challenging  social  custom, 
by  reopening  questions  the  world  has  thought  of 
as  settled,  and  by  summoning  their  day  and  gen- 
eration to  open  their  minds  to  new  light.  For 
these  men  also  let  us  have  a  welcome.  If  we 
kill  the  prophets  to-day,  we  shall  sadly  and  peni- 
tently build  their  tombs  to-morrow.  Uncer- 
tainty is  always  the  mother  of  intolerance.  The 
men  who  are  sure  of  their  own  convictions  can 
always  afford  to  listen  to  the  man  whose  convic- 
tions are  different.  As  James  Russell  Lowell 
says,  "  The  universe  of  God  is  fire-proof,  and  it 
is  quite  safe  to  strike  a  match."  Roger  Williams 
did  strike  a  few   matches  in  Providence  Planta- 


82  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

tions  two  and  a  half  centuries  ago,  and  the 
conflagration  which  threatened  to  consume  Mas- 
sachusetts has  turned  out  only  to  be  the  lighting 
of  a  flame  now  cherished  on  all  the  hearthstones 
of  the  republic.  Therefore  we  do  well,  from 
time  to  time,  to  preserve  in  speech  and  song  and 
legal  record,  and  in  memorials  of  marble  and 
bronze,  the  name  and  fame  of  the  founder  of 
Rhode  Island ;  for  in  the  wise  and  balanced 
words  of  John  Fiske,  "  He  was  the  first  to  con- 
ceive thoroughly,  and  carry  out  consistently,  in 
the  face  of  strong  opposition,  a  theory  of  relig- 
ious liberty  broad  enough  to  win  assent  and  ap- 
proval from  advanced  thinkers  of  the  present 
day." 


Ill 


Thomas  Hooker  and  the  Principle  of 
Congregational  Independency 


THOMAS  HOOKER  AND  THE  PRIN- 
CIPLE OF  CONGREGATIONAL 
INDEPENDENCY. 

While  no  period  of  history  can  be  wholly  de- 
void of  interest  to  those  whose  lives  fall  within  its 
bounds,  the  story  of  human  progress  has  been 
one  of  varying  picturesqueness  and,  we  must  be- 
lieve, of  unlike  attractiveness  to  the  successive 
actors  in  its  changing  scenes.  The  path  of 
events,  like  the  roadway  across  some  vast  conti- 
nent, has  its  alternations  of  arid  stretches,  of 
humdrum  levels,  of  mountain  ranges  of  struggle 
and  of  far-sighted  inspiration.  To  have  lived  in 
an  age  which  witnessed  the  discovery  of  a  new 
world,  with  its  infinite  possibilities  of  adventure, 
which  opened  the  sea  route  to  the  Orient,  which 
altered  educational  methods,  and,  above  all,  wit- 
nessed the  great  Lutheran  revolt,  seems  to  us 
vastly  more  significant  than  to  have  had  one's 
allotted  span  of  existence  in  the  obscurity  of 
Anglo-Saxon  England,  or  even  in  the  artificiality 
of  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Not 
a  few  of  the  generation  to  which  the  speaker  be- 
longs feel  a  pang  of  regret  that  they  can  know 
only  from  the  lips  of  others  the  struggles  and 
aspirations  and  hopes  of  that  wonderful  period  in 
our  New  England  story  which  began  with  the  re- 


86  THOMAS   HOOKER 

formatory  movements  of  the  early  thirties  of  the 
nineteenth  century  and  spent  itself  in  the  fever 
of  the  Civil  War.  Doubtless  the  more  personal 
events  of  business  and  family  and  community  life, 
which  count  for  so  little  on  the  great  roll  of  his- 
tory, but  loom  so  momentously  in  our  individual 
experience,  make  most  of  concern  in  the  estimate 
of  the  greater  part  of  the  men  and  women  of  any 
age ;  but  one  can  but  believe  it  to  have  been  a 
privilege  to  have  lived  when  the  Renaissance 
burst  the  shackles  of  the  Middle  Ages,  when 
England  saw  the  peril  of  the  Armada  ebb  from 
her  shores,  when  France  entered  on  the  high 
hopes  of  the  Revolution,  or  when  American 
independence  was  won. 

For  most  men,  however,  acquaintance  with  the 
more  stirring  and  picturesque  of  the  events  of 
history  must  be  through  the  recorded  experience 
of  others, —  if  possible,  of  others  who  had  an  impor- 
tant role  on  the  great  stage  of  human  events ;  and 
we  shall  therefore  try  to  see  a  significant  epoch  of 
Anglo-Saxon  development  as  it  is  illustrated  in 
the  story  of  one  of  its  typical  leaders, —  Thomas 
Hooker. 

If  one  glances  at  the  map  of  England,  one  sees 
in  almost  its  exact  geographical  centre  the  county 
of  Leicester.  The  region  is  one  of  fertile  farming 
land  and  of  wide  landscapes.     And  in  the  little 


THOMAS  HOOKER  87 

Leicestershire  village  of  Marfield,  then  numbering 
six  houses  and  now  counting  but  five,  it  was  that 
Thomas  Hooker  was  born,  probably  in  1586, 
and  possibly  on  the  7th  of  July.  Of  his  par- 
ents little  has  been  recorded.  His  father  bore 
the  same  Christian  name ;  and  the  family  position 
was  honorable,  as  social  rank  was  then  estimated. 
But,  in  spite  of  Cotton  Mather's  statement  that 
the  parents  "  were  neither  unable  nor  unwilling 
to  bestow  upon  him  a  liberal  education,"  their 
pecuniary  ability  was  apparently  limited ;  and 
young  Hooker's  mental  training  seems  to  have 
been  made  largely  possible  by  the  use  of  funds 
and  fellowships  established  by  those  who  had 
sought  to  make  the  paths  of  learning  easier  for 
needy  young  men.  His  first  scholastic  training, 
beyond  the  rudimentary  instruction  in  his  own 
home,  was  gained  at  a  school  founded  by  Sir 
Wolstan  Dixie  at  Market-Bosworth,  in  which, 
more  than  a  century  later,  Dr.  Samuel  John- 
son was  to  be  an  "  usher."  From  the  instruction 
afforded  by  Market-Bosworth  he  passed  in  due 
course  to  the  University  of  Cambridge,  being 
matriculated  a  "sizar,"  or  student-waiter,  of 
Queen's  College  on  March  27,  1604,  when  not 
quite  eighteen  years  of  age.  From  Queen's  Col- 
lege he  passed  to  the  more  comfortable  enjoy- 
ment of  one  of  the  two  Wolstan  Dixie  fellow- 


88  THOMAS  HOOKER 

ships  at  Emmanuel  College ;  and  there  he 
graduated  a  Bachelor  of  i\rts  in  1608,  and 
received  the   Master's  degree  in   161 1. 

To  become  a  student  at  Emmanuel  College  in 
the  early  years  of  the  reign  of  James  I.  was  to  be 
initiated  into  the  most  strenuous  circles  of  Eng- 
lish Puritanism.  Beyond  any  other  foundation 
at  the  prevailingly  Puritan  University  of  which 
it  was  one  of  the  colleges,  Emmanuel  had  been 
devoted  to  the  Puritan  cause  since  its  establish- 
ment by  a  zealous  Puritan  courtier  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  Sir  Walter  Mildmay,  in  1584.  Its 
services  in  training  the  founders  of  New  England 
were  to  be  conspicuous ;  for  it  bears  upon  its  roll 
of  graduates,  besides  the  name  of  Hooker,  those 
of  John  Cotton,  Samuel  Stone,  Thomas  Shepard, 
John  Harvard,  and  Nathaniel  Ward,  not  to 
speak  of  others  destined  to  be  of  eminent  use  in 
the  Puritan  colonies  across  the  Atlantic.  It  stood 
in  the  forefront  of  the  Puritan  battle ;  and  in  its 
simpHcity  of  public  worship,  its  zeal  for  preach- 
ing, its  hearty  support  of  the  intense  Calvinism 
characteristic  of  Puritanism  generally,  and  its 
strenuous  desire  to  alter  the  constitution  of  the 
Church  of  England  once  more  in  conformity 
with  the  ideals  which  Calvinistic  Puritanism 
gathered  from  the  study  of  the  New  Testament, 
it  represented  in  its   intensest  form  the  spirit  of 


THOMAS  HOOKER  89 

the  Puritan  party.  So  pronounced,  indeed,  was 
the  Puritanism  of  Emmanuel  College,  under  the 
mastership  of  Laurence  Chaderton  and  his  emi- 
nent successor,  John  Preston,  that  it  was  regarded 
"  as  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  mere  nursery  of 
Puritans  "  ;  and  its  services  to  the  Puritan  cause 
were  such  as  to  make  the  designation  eminently 
just. 

The  struggle,  into  the  heat  of  which  the  young 
Cambridge  student  was  thus  thrown,  was  one 
which  had  been  dividing  England  with  increasing 
bitterness  for  two  generations.  It  was  a  contest 
of  principles  rather  than  of  mere  parties  in  the 
Church ;  and,  being  a  contest  of  principles,  it 
penetrated  deeply  and  divisively  into  the  national 
life.  At  the  time  of  the  accession  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  nearly  a  generation  before  Hooker's 
birth,  probably  not  more  than  a  third  of  the  pop- 
ulation were  Protestant  at  heart.  The  situation 
which  the  great  queen  encountered  was  one  of 
exceeding  difficulty.  Opposed  by  the  Catholic 
powers  of  Europe  and  declared  without  title  to 
her  royal  authority,  her  heir,  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots,  an  adherent  of  the  Roman  communion, 
and  her  own  subjects  divided  in  their  allegiance, 
the  situation  was  one  not  merely  of  great  peril 
for  the  stability  of  her  own  throne,  but  one,  also, 
in  which  the  land  she  ruled  might  easily  become 


90  THOMAS  HOOKER 

prey  to  civil  war,  as  was  the  fate  contemporane- 
ously of  the  neighboring  kingdom  of  France. 
That  such  a  result  was  avoided  was  no  mean 
political  achievement,  but  it  was  avoided  at  the 
expense  of  what  was  thought  by  the  more  earnest 
of  the  Protestant  party  of  England  a  serious 
check  to  the  rehgious  interests  of  the  kingdom. 
To  the  queen  herself  it  seemed  sufficient  to 
secure  uniformity  of  worship  and  submission  to 
her  own  ecclesiastical  authority.  To  inquire 
much  further  than  that  into  the  real  beliefs  or  the 
pastoral  fitness  of  the  clergy  who  had  been  swept 
in  a  body  from  the  Roman  obedience  into  the 
new  Anglican  fellowship  was  unnecessary ;  and  to 
agitate  for  any  further  reforms  in  the  ecclesiastical 
constitution,  especially  for  any  reforms  that  would 
limit  the  royal  authority  or  increase  the  danger  of 
civil  discord  by  antagonizing  any  considerable 
portion  of  the  population,  was,  in  her  judgment, 
practically  equivalent  to  treason  against  her  sov- 
ereignty. 

Nor  were  matters  really  bettered  when  James 
I.  succeeded  to  the  throne  made  vacant  by  Eliza- 
beth's death  in  1603.  Trained  in  Presbyterian- 
ism,  and  himself  a  vigorous  and  polemic  defender 
of  the  Calvinistic  theology,  the  party  desirous  of 
the  further  reform  of  the  English  Church  hoped 
much  from  him  ;  but  their  expectations  suffered 


THOMAS  HOOKER  91 

speedy  disappointment.  He  declared  to  the 
Puritan  representatives  who  presented  their  re- 
quests to  him  at  the  Hampton  Conference  in 
1604,  regarding  those  who  desired  to  alter 
the  worship  of  the  English  Church,  "  I  shall 
make  the  conforme  themselues,  or  I  wil  harrie 
them  out  of  the  land,  or  else  doe  worse."  "  No 
bishop,  no  king,"  was  the  "  short  aphorisme " 
in  which  James  expressed  his  approval  of  the 
English  establishment  as  it  had  come  to  him 
from  the  hands  of  the  great  queen.  With  this 
hearty  commendation  of  the  ecclesiastical  system 
of  which  he  was  the  head  and  controlling  author- 
ity, James  combined  the  loftiest  conceptions  of 
the  divinely  appointed  nature  of  his  kingly 
power.  To  be  responsible  to  his  subjects,  either 
for  the  religious  or  the  political  administration  of 
his  realm,  was  as  far  as  possible  from  his  thoughts  ; 
and  his  conduct,  both  in  Church  and  State,  was 
such  as  to  anger  and  to  alienate  those  of  his 
subjects  alike  who  looked  for  further  churchly 
reform  and  for  constitutional  government.  Thus 
he  quarrelled  with  the  commons  as  to  whether 
they  had  the  right  to  discuss  questions  of  Church 
and  State.  He  irritated  the  Puritans  no  less 
by  prescribing  the  reading  of  a  book  of  sports  in 
161 8,  which,  however  well  intentioned  on  the 
king's  part,  seemed  to  them  a  direct  incitement 


92  THOMAS  HOOKER 

to  the  breach  of  the  Fourth  Commandment ;  and 
by  denying  to  any  one  lower  in  ecclesiastical 
station  than  the  occupant  of  the  high  position  of  a 
dean  the  right  to  discuss  in  public  those  Calvin- 
istic  doctrines  of  election,  predestination,  and  the 
mysterious  ways  of  God  which  seemed  to  the 
Puritan  party  the  doctrines  of  grace,  and  to  be 
fundamentally  necessary  for  a  true  presentation 
of  the  way  of  salvation.  And,  when  James  I. 
closed  his  life  in  1625,  the  situation,  so  far  as  the 
hope  of  further  reform  in  the  English  Church  or 
State  was  concerned,  was  made  worse  rather  than 
better  by  the  accession  of  his  son  Charles  I. 
More  polished  in  manner  and  more  tactful  in 
address  than  his  father  had  ever  been,  his  con- 
ceptions of  the  royal  authority  were  fully  as  lofty, 
and  his  determination  to  suppress  all  innovations 
in  ecclesiastical  procedure  quite  as  strenuous.  In 
this  policy,  in  Church  and  State  alike,  he  had, 
moreover,  the  counsel  and  support  of  one  who 
was  in  himself  the  illustration  of  what  was 
best  and  worst  In  the  high  Anglicanism  which 
the  king  represented, —  William  Laud,  a  prelate 
fiercely  determined  to  enforce  ecclesiastical  uni- 
formity throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
kingdom,  because  he  sincerely  believed  that  such 
absolute  suppression  of  dissent  was  for  the  best 
interests  of  the  English  Church. 


THOMAS  HOOKER 


9Z 


In  almost  polar  opposition  to  these  principles 
which  Elizabeth  and  the  Stuart  sovereigns  repre- 
sented, and  which  enjoyed  the  support  of  a  large 
proportion  of  the  people  of  England,  stood  the 
Puritan  party.  Thorough-going  in  its  Protes- 
tantism, it  believed  that  the  Elizabethan  settle- 
ment was  but  a  half-completed  reformation  at 
best,  and  that  it  was  the  duty  of  the  government 
to  alter  the  much  altered  Church  of  England 
once  more  into  completer  conformity  with  the 
pattern  of  what  the  Christian  Church  should  be, 
as  the  Puritans  thought  they  discovered  that 
pattern  in  the  New  Testament,  under  the  light 
that  came  to  them  from  the  expositions  of  the 
great  theologian  of  Geneva.  Above  all,  Puritan- 
ism was  an  ethical  power.  It  desired  the  moral 
betterment  of  the  people  of  England  ;  and  it 
regarded  the  toleration  in  the  Church  of  an  ig- 
norant, non-preaching,  unstrenuous  clergy,  how- 
ever politically  expedient  such  toleration  might 
be,  as  nothing  less  than  a  deprivation  of  religious 
privilege  which  demanded  immediate  reform. 
Puritanism  desired  a  learned,  earnest,  preaching 
ministry,  and  a  vigorous,  searching  moral  disci- 
pHne;  and  it  viewed  the  royal  power  and  the 
royally  appointed  bishops  who  kept  in  office 
clergymen  whom  Puritanism  regarded  as  unfit 
to  be  spiritual  leaders  as  the  main  hindrances  to 


94  THOMAS  HOOKER 

the  reform   of  the    Church    of  England,  which 
Puritanism  desired  to  see  accomplished. 

It  was  natural,  trained  as  the  leaders  of  Puri- 
tanism were,  under  influences  which  emanated 
from  Calvin,  that  their  interpretation  both  of 
Christian  truth  and  of  church  government  ran 
in  lines  which  the  Genevan  reformer  had  marked 
out ;  and  it  was  fortunate  for  English  liberty  that 
such  was  the  case,  for,  though  Calvin  himself  was 
by  nature  an  aristocrat,  and  though  his  ecclesiasti- 
cal rule  at  Geneva  was  marked  by  an  interference 
with  the  individual  life  of  the  inhabitants  of  that 
city  which  we  should  now  deem  tyranny,  his  influ- 
ence on  the  existing  state  of  religious  and  political 
thought  alike  was  one  which  made  for  constitu- 
tional liberty  and  which  demanded  for  the  people 
some  share  in  the  government.  Calvin  was  not, 
in  intention,  a  political  innovator.  His  work,  in 
his  own  thought  at  least,  was  purely  a  religious 
one ;  but  the  lessons  that  he  taught  to  Western 
Europe  were  of  a  wide-reaching  importance,  no 
less  in  the  realm  of  politics  than  in  that  of  church 
organization.  Calvin  taught  that  no  law  of  man 
is  right,  by  whomsoever  enacted,  till  it  is  in  con- 
formity with  the  law  of  God.  Who  was  to  tell 
what  that  law  of  God  is  to  which  conformity  is 
due  save  the  common  man  as  he  read  his  Bible 
with  his  own  eyes  and  tried  to  interpret  the  stat- 


THOMAS  HOOKER  95 

utes  of  the  government  under  which  he  lived  in 
conformity  with  what  he  understood  to  be  divine 
requirements  ?  Calvin  taught  thus  to  all  think- 
ing men  who  accepted  his  view  of  Christian  truth 
that  there  is  a  further  test  to  be  applied  to  any 
statute  enacted  by  king  or  parliament  than  the 
mere  fact  that  it  has  proceeded  from  such  hu- 
manly constituted  authority.  It  must  justify 
itself  as  true,  also,  to  the  divine  law,  when  tested 
by  the  judgment  of  the  common  man.  This  was 
a  doctrine  with  which  the  Tudor  and  Stuart  the- 
ory of  the  divine  right  of  kings  could  have  no 
fellowship. 

Furthermore,  Calvin  taught  the  Puritan  that 
the  minister  served  his  congregation  by  its  con- 
sent ;  that  that  congregation  had  a  voice  in  his 
election  ;  and  the  conclusion  was  a  natural  con- 
sequence of  his  principle  that  in  some  sense,  in- 
definite it  may  be,  the  minister  was  responsible 
to  the  congregation  that  he  served,  and  could  be 
deposed  by  it  if  guilty  of  maladministration  of  his 
office.  This  doctrine,  equally,  had  no  fellowship 
with  the  Tudor  and  Stuart  conception  of  the 
Church  as  having  its  centre  of  authority  in  the 
sovereign,  as  ruled  by  bishops  of  his  appoint- 
ment, and  as  ministered  to  by  priests  in  whose 
selection  their  congregations  had  no  share.  And, 
as  it  is  impossible  to  disassociate  the  principles 


96  THOMAS  HOOKER 

which  govern  men's  thinking  in  matters  of 
church  organization  from  those  which  control 
them  in  political  affairs,  the  Puritan  soon  queried 
why,  if  ministers  were  responsible  to  the  con- 
gregations that  they  served,  might  not  officers 
of  civil  government,  even  kings  on  their  thrones, 
be  answerable  to  the  people  for  a  proper  admin- 
istration of  the  trusts  committed  to  them  ?  It 
was  a  perception  of  the  far-reaching  consequences 
of  these  fundamental  diversities  of  conviction, 
quite  as  much  as  any  mere  question  of  ecclesiasti- 
cal organization  or  of  ritual,  important  as  those 
matters  were  then  regarded,  which  nerved  the 
Puritan  and  his  opponent  alike  in  their  long 
struggle.  King  James  well  expressed  his  sense 
of  the  irreconcilable  antagonism  of  the  two  points 
of  view  when  he  declared,  regarding  Scottish 
Presbyterianism,  in  terms  equally  applicable  to 
Puritanism,  that  it  "as  wel  agreeth  with  a  Mon- 
archy " —  as  a  Stuart  king  conceived  monarchy 
should  be — "as  God  and  the  Deuill." 

Hooker's  stay  at  Cambridge  initiated  him  fully 
into  the  Puritan  side  of  this  great  controversy,  if 
he  had  not  been  a  Puritan  from  the  beginning 
of  his  intellectual  life  ;  and  he  made  the  principles 
for  which  the  Puritan  party  stood  fully  his  own. 
But  his  university  years  brought  to  him  another 
and  more  intimate  experience,  the  sense  of  which 


THOMAS  HOOKER  97 

vivified  and  quickened  his  own  personal  piety 
thereafter,  and,  since  it  did  not  a  little  to  deter- 
mine the  peculiar  shade  of  his  theology  and  the 
emphasis  of  his  preaching,  is  of  much  importance 
in  any  consideration  of  his  life.  That  experience 
was  his  conversion.  It  was  through  the  gateway 
of  intensest  spiritual  struggle,  as  was  natural  to 
the  Puritans  of  his  day,  that  Hooker  believed 
thac  he  came  into  the  kingdom  of  God ;  but  this 
struggle  had  an  agony  and  strenuousness  exceed- 
ing that  of  Puritanism  in  general,  convinced  as 
Puritanism  was  that  salvation  is  an  extremely 
difficult  matter.  It  has  been  customary  to  at- 
tribute to  that  sombre  theologian  of  Newport, 
Samuel  Hopkins,  the  belief  that  no  man  could 
be  fully  a  Christian  until  he  was  so  willing  to 
place  himself  at  the  divine  disposal  as  to  accept 
without  rebellion  whatever  disposal  God  should 
see  fit  to  make  of  him,  even  if  the  divine  purpose 
should  involve  his  damnation.  This  was  the 
rigorous  and,  to  most  Christian  people,  ab- 
horrent test  to  which  Hooker  held  himself  in 
his  own  conversion,  and  in  his  preaching  ever 
afterwards  held  up  to  others  as  the  fundamental 
prerequisite  of  a  true  Christian  hope.  One  cannot 
wonder  that  Hooker  pictured  this  trying  passage 
in  his  personal  history  as  the  "  time  of  his 
agonies,"  or  that  he  took  comfort  in  what  Cotton 


98  THOMAS  HOOKER 

Mather  describes  as  the  "  prudent  and  piteous 
carriage  "  of  Simeon  Ashe,  afterwards  an  eminent 
Puritan  divine,  but  who  was  brought  into  rela- 
tions with  Hooker  in  this  time  of  spiritual  trial 
as  the  "  sizar  that  then  waited  upon  him,"  and 
whose  sympathetic  compassion  touched  Hooker's 
burdened  heart. 

At  precisely  what  point  in  his  university  career 
this  profound  religious  experience  occurred  it  is, 
perhaps,  impossible  to  say  ;  but  it  was  followed  by 
a  determination  on  Hooker's  part  to  enter  the 
ministry.  During  the  latter  part  of  his  residence 
at  Cambridge  he  served  as  a  catechist  and 
preacher;  and  between  1618  and  1620  he  was 
appointed  to  the  rectorship  of  Esher,  a  village 
some  sixteen  miles  south-west  of  London.  The 
moving  cause  which  induced  Hooker  to  accept 
this  modest  position,  with  its  salary  of  only  ^40 
a  year,  seems  to  have  been  the  fact  that  the  Esher 
rectorship  was  directly  in  the  gift  of  a  Puritan 
patron,  and  did  not  require  the  intervention  of 
a  bishop  for  its  reception  ;  and  it  was  the  hope 
that  Hooker's  ministrations  might  be  of  benefit 
to  his  invalid  and  spiritually  distressed  wife  that 
induced  the  patron  of  Esher,  Francis  Drake,  a 
relative  of  the  English  sailor  of  Elizabeth's  reign, 
to  offer  the  living  to  the  young  Cambridge  grad- 
uate.    Here   Hooker  preached  until    1626,  and 


THOMAS  HOOKER  99 

here  he  married  Mrs.  Drake's  "  waiting- woman/' 
Susanna,  whose  family  name  is  not  known,  but 
who,  there  is  evidence  to  prove,  was  highly  re- 
garded in  the  household  in  which  she  was  a  com- 
panion. That  the  union  thus  formed,  which 
continued  as  long  as  Hooker  lived,  was  one  of 
mutual  helpfulness  and  affection,  we  may  well 
believe;  but  regarding  Mrs.  Hooker's  personality, 
or  her  influence  upon  the  life  of  her  husband  or 
of  others,  scarcely  any  trace  has  been  recorded. 

Hooker's  pastorate  at  Esher  was  exchanged 
in  1626  for  a  post  of  much  greater  conspicuity, 
when  he  became  lecturer  at  Chelmsford,  some 
twenty-nine  miles  east  of  London.  The  position 
which  he  thus  assumed  was  one  of  the  char- 
acteristic devices  of  Puritanism,  in  order  to 
secure  a  more  efficient  ministry  than  the  regular 
incumbent  of  the  parish  always  afforded.  Side 
by  side  with  the  duly  installed  rector,  Puritan 
benevolence,  in  many  towns,  supported  a  "  lect- 
urer" who  would  preach  as  Puritanism  desired; 
and  as  a  divisive  element  in  ecclesiastical  hfe, 
efficient  in  the  propagation  of  that  Puritanism 
which  Laud  and  his  Stuart  sovereign  alike  op- 
posed, the  lectureship  system  won  the  hearty 
condemnation  of  the  Anglican  party,  and  found 
in  Laud  himself  its  most  efficient,  conscientious, 
and  active  enemy.     Hooker's   preaching,  more- 


loo  THOMAS  HOOKER 

over,  both  at  Esher  and  in  his  Chelmsford  min- 
istry, in  spite  of  the  royal  prohibition  of  the 
public  discussion  of  Calvinistic  doctrines  to  which 
allusion  has  already  been  made,  was  of  intensely 
Calvinistic  character.  Much  of  it  bore  the  stamp 
of  the  deep  and  searching  struggle  through  which 
he  had  passed  in  his  conversion  ;  and  the  volumes 
in  which  his  sermons  of  this  period  and  of  his 
early  New  England  ministry  have  been  preserved 
bear  such  titles  as  "  The  Poor  Dovting  Christian 
drawne  vnto  Christ,"  "  The  So  vies  Preparation 
for  Christ,"  or  "  The  Sovles  Humiliation." 

Of  his  great  repute  as  a  preacher  there  can  be 
no  question ;  and  a  single  quotation  from  one 
of  these  sermons  will  illustrate  alike  the  char- 
acteristics of  Hooker's  pulpit  style  and  the 
degree  to  which  he  made  his  own  religious  ex- 
perience a  touchstone  to  test  the  truth  of  that 
of  others.     He  is  speaking  of  conversion  :  — 

Now  I  come  to  this  last  passage  in  this  worke  of 
Humiliation,  and  this  is  the  dead  lift  of  all.  The 
Prodigall  doth  not  stand  it  out  with  his  Father  and  say, 
I  am  now  come  againe,  if  I  may  have  halfe  the  rule  in 
the  Family,  I  am  content  to  live  with  you.  No, 
though  hee  would  not  stay  there  before,  yet  now  hee 
cannot  be  kept  out,  hee  is  content  to  bee  anything.  .  .  . 
Lord  (saith  he)  shew  me  mercy,  and  I  am  content  to 
be,  and  to  suffer  anything.     So  from  hence  the  Doctrine 


THOMAS  HOOKER 


lOI 


is    this.     The   Soule  that  is  truly  humbled,  is  content 
to  be  disposed  of  by  the  Almightie,  as  it  pleaseth  him. 
The  maine  pitch  of  this  point  lyes  in  the  word,  content. 
This  phrase  is  a  higher  pitch  than  the  former  of  sub- 
mission :  and  this  is   plaine  by  this  example.     Take  a 
debtor,  who  hath  used  all  meanes  to  avoyd  the  creditor : 
in  the  end  he  seeth  that  hee  cannot  avoyd  the  suit,  and 
to  beare  it  hee  is  not  able.     Therefore  the  onely  way  is 
to  come  in,  and  yeeld  himselfe  into  his  creditors  hands ; 
where  there  is  nothing,  the  King  must  loose  his  right ; 
so  the  debtor  yeelds  himselfe  :   but  suppose  the  creditor 
should  use  him  hardly,  exact  the  uttermost,  and  throw 
him  into  prison.     Now  to  bee  content  to  under-goe  the 
hardest  dealing,  it  is  a  hard   matter:    this  is  a  further 
degree  than  the  ofFering  himselfe.     So,  when  the  Soule 
hath  ofFered  himselfe,  and  he  seeth  that  Gods  writs  are 
out  against  him,  and    his  Conscience  (the    Lords  Ser- 
jeant) is  comming  to  serve  a  Suhpcena  on  him,  and  it  is 
not  able  to  avoyd  it,  nor  to  beare  it  when  he  comes, 
therefore  he  submits  himselfe  and  saith,  Lord,  whither 
shall  I  goe,  thy  anger  is  heavy  and   unavoydable  j  Nay, 
whatsoever  God  requires,  the  Soule  layes  his  hand  upon 
his  mouth,  and  goes  away  contented  and  well  satisfied, 
and  it  hath  nothing  to  say  against  the  Lord. 

Here  are  illustrated  the  qualities  which  stand 
evident  on  every  page  of  Hooker's  printed  dis- 
courses,—  his  aptness  in  homely  illustration,  his 
vividness  of  description,  his  intense  spiritual 
earnestness,  and  his  conception  of  the  profound 


I02  THOMAS  HOOKER 

and  fundamental  character  of  the  transformation 
by  which  alone  he  believed  the  soul  could  be 
fitted  for  the  kingdom  of  God.  A  preacher  such 
as  he  must  have  commanded  attention  to  his 
message  always,  whether  men  agreed  with  him  or 
not ;  and  we  have  ample  evidence  of  the  effective- 
ness with  which  he  encountered,  and  not  in- 
frequently overcame,  the  opposition  of  those 
indifferent  or  hostile  to  what  he  had  to  say. 

A  single,  and  we  may  hope,  an  extreme  in- 
stance alike  of  this  opposition  and  of  his  skill 
in  meeting  it  is  recorded  by  Cotton  Mather  as 
having  taken  place  on  one  of  Hooker's  visits 
to  the  town  from  which  his  native  county  of 
Leicester  takes  its  name. 

"  One  of  the  chief  burgesses,"  says  Mather, 
"  much  opposed  his  preaching  there  ;  and  when  he 
could  not  prevail  to  hinder  it,  he  set  ctrtaAn  fiddlers 
at  work  to  disturb  him  in  the  church-porch  or 
church-yard.  But  such  was  the  vivacity  of  Mr. 
Hooker,  as  to  proceed  in  what  he  was  about, 
without  either  the  dampning  of  his  mind,  or  the 
drowning  of  his  voice ;  whereupon  the  man  him- 
self went  unto  the  church-door  to  overhear  what 
he  said.  It  pleased  God  so  to  accompany  some 
words  uttered  by  Mr.  Hooker,  as  thereby  to 
procure,  first  the  attention  and  then  the  conviction 
of  that  wretched  man ;  who  then  came  to   Mr. 


THOMAS  HOOKER  103 

Hooker  with  a  penitent  confession  of  his  wicked- 
ness." 

The  very  conspicuity  and  effectiveness  of  this 
Chehnsford  ministry  drew  upon  it  the  more 
promptly  the  criticism  of  those  who  opposed  the 
system  of  Puritan  lectureships  ;  and  before  a  year 
had  passed  after  Laud  had  become  bishop  of 
London,  and  thus  Hooker's  immediate  ecclesias- 
tical superior,  the  Chelmsford  lecturer  felt  the 
hand  of  churchly  discipline.  The  neighboring 
clergy  of  the  establishment  soon  after  ranged 
themselves  for  and  against  him,  some  forty-nine 
signing  a  petition  in  Hooker's  behalf,  while  forty- 
one  in  a  similar  way  expressed  their  wish  that 
Laud  should  "enforce  these  irregulars  to  con- 
forme";  and  so  threatening  grew  the  situation 
that,  apparently,  about  the  close  of  1629,  Hooker 
retired  from  his  Chelmsford  ministry,  and  found 
refuge  in  the  neighboring  village  of  Little  Bad- 
dow,  where  he  opened  a  school  in  his  own  house. 
Yet  even  here  Laud  regarded  him  as  dangerous. 
Cited  to  appear  before  the  High  Commission 
Court  in  July,  1630,  by  the  advice  and  assist- 
ance of  his  friends  he  escaped  with  much  diffi- 
culty to  Holland,  and  began  the  self-imposed 
exile  from  his  native  land  which  was  to  last,  with 
one  short  interruption,  till  his  death.  In  Hol- 
land, after  a  brief  sojourn  at  Amsterdam,  Hooker 


I04  THOMAS  HOOKER 

became  for  about  two  years  the  colleague  of 
John  Forbes  in  the  pastorate  of  the  Scotch 
Church  of  Delft,  and  was  then,  for  a  few  months, 
associated  with  the  eminent  William  Ames  in  the 
care  of  the  expatriated  congregation  worshipping 
in  Rotterdam. 

But,  even  before  Hooker's  flight  to  Holland, 
English  Puritanism  was  beginning  to  look  to  a 
New  England  across  the  sea ;  and  Hooker  can 
have  regarded  his  Dutch  residence  only  in  the 
light  of  a  temporary  refuge.  Just  what  the 
course  of  negotiations  between  him  and  his  former 
parishioners  and  admiring  hearers  was  it  is  im- 
possible to  say ;  but  it  is  evident  that  the  renewal 
of  pastoral  relations  in  the  New  World  with  his 
English  friends  must  have  been  determined  upon 
before  his  residence  in  Holland  had  long  contin- 
ued, for  we  find  a  company  of  immigrants  from 
Chelmsford  and  the  neighboring  Braintree  and 
Colchester  in  Old  England  settled  at  Mount 
Wollaston,  near  the  New  England  Boston,  in 
1632,  and  so  identified  with  the  absent  Hooker 
as  to  be  described  contemporaneously  by  Gov- 
ernor Winthrop  as  "  Mr.  Hooker's  company." 

It  was  to  join  this  waiting  congregation  that 
Hooker  left  Holland  for  England  in  1633,  and 
after  a  narrow  escape  from  capture  sailed  on  the 
"  Griffin,"  with   Rev.  Samuel  Stone,  who  was  to 


THOMAS  HOOKER  105 

be  his  colleague  during  all  his  American  minis- 
terial career,  John  Cotton,  already  famous  in 
English  Puritan  circles  and  to  be  yet  more  dis- 
tinguished as  the  foremost  minister  of  Massachu- 
setts, and  John  Haynes,  to  be  governor  succes- 
sively of  Massachusetts  and  of  Connecticut.  And 
it  must  have  been  a  kind  of  Puritan  feast  of 
preaching  that  the  "  Griffin "  company  enjoyed 
during  the  eight  weeks'  voyage,  for  Cotton 
Mather  declares :  "  They  had  three  sermons  .  .  . 
for  the  most  part  every  day :  of  Mr.  Cotton  in 
the  morning,  Mr.  Hooker  in  the  afternoon,  Mr. 
Stone  after  supper  in  the  evening." 

Arrived  in  Boston  on  September  4,  1633, 
Hooker  was  settled,  on  October  11  following, 
as  ''pastor,"  with  Stone  as  "teacher,"  over  the 
waiting  congregation,  which  meanwhile  had  re- 
moved from  Mount  WoUaston  to  what  was  then 
known  as  Newtown,  but  was  speedily  to  be  desig- 
nated by  the  now  familiar  name  of  Cambridge. 
With  such  leaders  as  Hooker  and  Stone  in  its 
ministry  and  Haynes  in  its  lay  membership,  the 
congregation  worshipping  at  Cambridge  might 
well  contest  with  that  at  Boston,  under  the  guid- 
ance of  Cotton,  Wilson,  and  Winthrop,  the  pre- 
eminence among  the  churches  of  early  Massachu- 
setts. Its  influence  was  speedily  felt,  not  merely 
in    ecclesiastical,    but    in    civil    matters.     Thus 


io6  THOMAS  HOOKER 

Hooker  was  employed  in  1633  and  1636,  with 
Cotton,  in  adjusting  differences  between  Dudley 
and  Winthrop,  and  in  1635  ^^  discussing  with 
Roger  Williams  the  opinions  which  that  erratic 
and  liberty-loving  minister  had  advanced,  and 
which  the  General  Court  looked  upon  with 
disfavor.  The  same  year  Haynes  was  chosen 
governor  of  the  Massachusetts  Colony.  The 
Newtown  company,  whether  ministers  or  laymen, 
were  evidently  taking  a  prominent  part  in  New 
England  affairs. 

But  for  certain  reasons,  some  of  which  are  not 
as  evident  as  might  be  wished,  the  company  of 
which  Hooker  was  the  spiritual  leader  was  dis- 
satisfied with  the  location  and  environment  in 
which  they  found  themselves.  As  early  as  May, 
1634,  they  were  representing  to  the  General 
Court  of  Massachusetts  their  lack  of  sufficient 
land  and  their  desire  for  a  widening  of  their 
boundaries  or  for  permission  to  remove  else- 
where. They  were  sending  out  men  of  their 
number  to  investigate  the  possibilities  of  the 
meadow  lands  along  the  Merrimack,  and  by  the 
following  July  they  were  seriously  contemplating 
removal  to  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut  and 
were  sending  explorers  thither.  Such  a  situation 
of  discontent  was  a  serious  disturbance  of  the 
colony,  and,  at  the  General  Court  in  September 


THOMAS  HOOKER  107 

following,  the  whole  "  matter  was  debated  divers 
days,  and  many  reasons  alleged  pro  and  con. 
The  principal  reasons  for  their  removal  were,  i. 
Their  want  of  accommodation  for  their  cattle,  so 
as  they  were  not  able  to  maintain  their  ministers, 
nor  could  receive  any  more  of  their  friends  to 
help  them ;  and  so  it  was  alleged  by  Mr. 
Hooker,  as  a  fundamental  error,  that  towns 
were  set  so  near  each  to  other.  2.  The  fruit- 
fulness  and  commodiousness  of  Connecticut,  and 
the  danger  of  having  it  possessed  by  others, 
Dutch  or  English.  3.  The  strong  bent  of  their 
spirits  to  remove  thither." 

The  two  reasons  first  mentioned  by  Winthrop 
are  readily  comprehensible.  The  settlers  of  New 
England  had  the  land  hunger  so  characteristic 
of  pioneer  communities,  and  an  extent  of  terri- 
tory which  now  seems  absurdly  adequate  may 
well  have  appeared  unsatisfactory  to  them.  The 
meadow  lands  which  bordered  the  Connecticut 
certainly  offered  more  fertile  tracts  for  farming 
than  the  relatively  sterile  soil  about  Massachu- 
setts Bay ;  and  it  was  desirable,  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  interests  of  the  Puritan  colony, 
that  neither  the  Dutch  nor  the  men  of  Plymouth 
should  have  possession  of  so  attractive  and  so 
adjacent  a  territory  as  the  Connecticut  valley. 
Yet  these  reasons  by  no  means  fully  account  for 


io8  THOMAS  HOOKER 

the  "  strong  bent  of  their  spirits  to  remove/* 
for  these  considerations  might  as  well  have  ap- 
plied to  any  other  communities  in  the  colony 
besides  that  at  Newtown  and  its  sympathizers  in 
Dorchester  and  Watertown.  The  danger  was 
common  to  all,  and  we  cannot  feel  that  the 
desire  for  enlargement  was  peculiar  to  the  com- 
pany of  which  Hooker  was  pastor. 

Some  deeper  and  further  reasons  must  have 
had  their  influence  in  causing  them  to  reach  so 
momentous  a  decision  as  the  determination  to 
leave  their  newly  erected  houses  and  just  cleared 
farms  involved.  What  were  these  further  rea- 
sons ?  Unfortunately,  the  evidence  is  not  quite 
so  ample  as  we  could  wish ;  yet  I  think  that  two 
grounds  for  this  strong  bent  of  their  minds, 
besides  those  conspicuously  described  by  Win- 
throp,  are  evident  in  the  light  of  contemporary 
and  subsequent  evidence.  One  was,  as  Hubbard 
intimates,  a  certain  degree  of  personal  —  we  will 
not  say  jealousy  —  but  rivalry,  in  popular  esti- 
mate and  leadership,  between  Cotton  and  Win- 
throp,  on  the  one  hand,  and  Hooker  and  Haynes, 
on  the  other.  Without  serious  antagonism  to 
their  brethren  of  the  Boston  community,  the 
Newtown  company  may  well  have  felt  that  a 
further  removal  would  give  them  greater  inde- 
pendence   in     shaping    their    own    affairs.     And, 


THOMAS  HOOKER  109 

more  important  than  this,  there  is  reason  to 
believe,  in  the  light  of  later  Connecticut  prac- 
tice, that  a  decided  difference  existed  between 
these  would-be  emigrants  and  their  associates 
who  stayed  behind  in  regard  to  so  fundamental 
a  matter  as  the  conditions  of  the  franchise,  and, 
possibly  even,  some  degree  of  dissent  from  Mas- 
sachusetts strictness  in  admission  to  church 
membership.  By  a  law  passed  by  the  Mas- 
sachusetts General  Court  at  its  session  in  May, 
1 63 1,  those  admitted  freemen  after  that  time 
were  required  to  be  "  members  of  some  of  the 
churches  within  the  lymitts  of  the  "  Massachusetts 
Colony.  No  such  restriction  obtained  in  the 
little  commonwealth  which  Hooker  and  his  as- 
sociates speedily  planted  on  the  banks  of  the 
Connecticut ;  and  the  inference  is  natural  that  the 
absence  of  such  limitation  there  expressed  a  well- 
considered  dissent  of  the  Connecticut  founders 
from  the  fundamental  principles,  in  this  respect, 
of  their  Massachusetts  associates.  To  what  ex- 
tent this  dissent  involved  ecclesiastical  differences 
is  much  less  evident ;  but  a  correspondent,  writ- 
ing to  Rev.  John  Wilson,  of  Boston,  as  early  as 
April,  1637,  affirmed  "  that  you  [of  Massachu- 
setts] are  so  strict  in  admission  of  members  to 
your  church,  that  more  then  halfe  are  out  of  your 
church   in   all   your   congregations,   &    that    Mr. 


no  THOMAS  HOOKER 

Hoker  befor  he  went  away  preached  against  yt  as 
one  reports  who  hard  him." 

It  seems  clear,  therefore,  that  no  inconsider- 
able cause  of  this  desire  for  removal  to  Connecti- 
cut, so  strongly  manifested  by  Hooker  and  his 
associates  at  the  General  Court  in  the  autumn  of 
1634,  was  due  to  a  real,  if  little  openly  pro- 
claimed, want  of  sympathy  with  the  intensity  of 
the  theocratic  conceptions  then  governing  the  lead- 
ers of  Massachusetts ;  and  certainly,  on  the  part 
of  Hooker,  as  we  shall  have  occasion  to  see,  to  a 
stronger  and  clearer  conviction  of  democracy  as  the 
essential  basis  of  government  than  they  possessed. 

The  discussion  at  the  General  Court  in  Sep- 
tember, 1634,  resulted,  however,  in  a  temporary 
delay.  The  people  of  Newtown  accepted  an  en- 
largement of  their  territories  ;  but  it  was  only  a 
palliative,  and  by  September  of  the  following  year 
enough  settlers  were  in  Connecticut  to  justify 
the  Massachusetts  General  Court,  held  that 
month,  in  appointing  a  temporary  constable  for 
the  preservation  of  good  order  among  them.  In 
the  late  spring  of  1636  the  main  body  of  settlers, 
led  by  Hooker,  Stone,  and  Haynes,  made  their 
way  through  the  forest ;  and  the  early  summer 
saw  Hooker  and  his  parishioners  building  their 
new  homes  at  the  spot  which  was  soon  to  bear  the 
name  of  Hartford. 


THOMAS  HOOKER  m 

It  was  not  merely  with  the  erection  of  new 
dwellings  and  the  tillage  of  new  fields  that  these 
settlers  were  speedily  occupied.  Though  a  com- 
mission was  appointed  by  Massachusetts  with 
temporary  authority  for  their  government,  it  was 
speedily  discovered  that  they  were  without  the 
bounds  of  the  Massachusetts  patent ;  and,  there- 
fore, without  the  fundamental  constitution  which 
that  charter  gave  to  the  colony  from  which  they 
had  come  forth.  They  were  obliged  to  erect 
political  institutions  for  themselves ;  and,  though 
much  of  the  technical  skill  shown  in  this  construc- 
tive work  may  well  be  owing  to  the  legal  training 
of  Roger  Ludlow  and  the  executive  experience  of 
John  Haynes,  the  animating  spirit  of  the  new 
constitution  was  undoubtedly  the  democratic  spirit 
of  Hooker.  A  chance  auditor  of  an  address  given 
by  him  at  a  Thursday  lecture  on  May  31,  1638, 
before  the  General  Court  of  the  little  colony,  re- 
corded in  shorthand  the  declaration  of  principles 
which  Hooker  then  set  forth,  and  which,  had  it 
not  been  for  the  long-undeciphered  notes  of  this 
hearer,  would  have  remained  unknown  to  us. 
Taking  as  his  text  the  thirteenth  verse  of  the  first 
chapter  of  Deuteronomy,  Hooker  drew  the  fol- 
lowing doctrines :  — 

"1.  The  choice  of  public  magistrates  belongs 
unto  the  people,  by   God's  own  allowance.      II. 


112  THOMAS  HOOKER 

The  privilege  of  election,  which  belongs  to  the 
people,  therefore  must  not  be  exercised  according 
to  their  humours,  but  according  to  the  blessed 
will  and  law  of  God.  III.  They  who  have  power 
to  appoint  officers  and  magistrates,  it  is  in  their 
power,  also,  to  set  the  bounds  and  limitations  of 
the  power  and  place  unto  which  they  call  them." 

And  he  gives  as  the  first  of  the  "reasons"  for 
these  "  doctrines  "  that  "  the  foundation  of  au- 
thority is  laid,  in  the  free  consent  of  the  people." 

Here,  then,  we  have  the  declaration  of  Hook- 
er's principles,  which  was  to  be  embodied  in 
January,  1639,  in  the  fundamental  laws  or  first 
constitution  of  Connecticut, —  a  basal  compact 
which  clearer  and  more  fully  than  any  political 
agreement  heretofore  formulated  recognized  the 
foundation  of  authority  as  existent  in  the  people, 
and  the  officers  of  government  as  responsible  to 
them.  It  was  the  first  adequate  and  distinct 
enunciation  of  what  might  be  called  the  funda- 
mental political  principle  after  which  Puritanism 
had  been  groping  through  two  generations  of 
struggle  on  English  soil,  and  which  Puritanism 
as  a  whole  was  far  from  having  attained, —  the 
principle  that  a  self-governing  democracy  is  the 
proper  basis  of  the  State.  Of  the  far-sighted 
soundness  of  Hooker's  clear-visioned  utterance 
and  of  the  deep-seated  and  thorough-going  char- 


THOMAS  HOOKER  113 

acter  of  his  own  democracy  there  can  be  no  ques- 
tion. If  it  was  for  no  other  utterance  than  this, 
he  deserves  high  place  among  the  founders  of 
New  England. 

Though  Hooker  was  thus  a  moulding  force 
in  shaping  the  political  foundations  of  Con- 
necticut, his  interests  were,  primarily,  pastoral 
and  religious  rather  than  political.  Indeed,  we 
may  truly  say  that  the  civil  principles  which 
seemed  so  clear  to  his  keen-sighted  vision  were 
but  the  application  to  governmental  affairs  of 
truths  which  appeared  to  him  formative  in  eccle- 
siastical organization.  To  quote  the  title  given  to 
this  lecture,  his  conception  of  the  foundation  of 
government  in  the  free  consent  of  the  people  was 
but  the  transference  to  the  realm  of  politics  of 
his  "Principle  of  Congregational  Independency," 
or  the  self-governing  power  of  a  local  Congrega- 
tional church.  Hooker's  writings  are,  with  one 
exception,  sermons  and  collections  of  sermons, 
addressed,  primarily,  to  the  initiation  and  up- 
building of  the  Christian  hfe,  as  his  intense  and 
emotional  Puritanism  understood  that  life  to  be. 
But  that  exception  is  a  conspicuous  one,  and 
shows  Hooker  to  have  been  no  less  eminent  as 
an  expounder  of  the  principles  of  ecclesiastical 
government,  as  New  England  generally  under- 
stood those  principles,  than  as  a  pioneer  in  the 


114  THOMAS  HOOKER 

exposition  of  political  truths  which  won  far  less 
general  following  in  his  day.  The  volume  in 
which  Hooker  set  forth  what  he  deemed  the  fun- 
damental basis  of  the  Church  is  that  entitled  "  A 
Survey  of  the  Summe  of  Church-Discipline/* 
and  passed  through  many  vicissitudes  before  it 
was  finally  published. 

The  outbreak  of  the  great  Civil  War  in  Eng- 
land in  1642  was  followed  by  the  speedy  ab- 
olition of  Episcopacy  by  Parliament  and  the 
summons  of  the  assembly  of  divines  to  meet  at 
Westminster  in  July,  1643,  ^^  advise  in  the  re- 
organization of  the  government  of  the  English 
Church  and  the  new  formulation  of  its  doc- 
trine. Hooker,  Cotton,  and  Davenport  were 
invited  by  men  of  influence  in  the  Parliamentary 
party,  such  as  the  Earl  of  Warwick  who  had 
known  and  befriended  Hooker  at  Chelmsford, 
Lord  Say  and  Sele,  and  Oliver  Cromwell,  to 
allow  these  friends  to  present  their  names  for 
summons  by  Parliament  to  membership  in  that 
great  assembly.  Cotton  and  Davenport  had  in- 
clined to  go;  but  Hooker  "liked  not  the  busi- 
ness," and  in  a  phrase  which  sounds  characteristic 
of  him,  though  recorded  by  Winthrop,  "  nor 
thought  it  any  suflicient  call  for  them  to  go  three 
thousand  miles  to  agree  with  three  men."  He 
clearly  discerned  the  overwhelmingly  Presbyterian 


THOMAS  HOOKER 


115 


complexion  of  the  Westminster  Assembly  and 
the  hopeless  minority  in  which  he  and  his  Con- 
gregational associates  would  be  likely  to  find 
themselves,  if  members  of  it. 

But  the  summons  of  that  assembly  raised  the 
whole  question  of  the  proper  organization  of  the 
Christian  Church  to  an  intensity  of  debate  such 
as  had  not  yet  characterized  England.  Cotton, 
Davenport,  and  Mather  on  this  side  of  the  At- 
lantic set  forth  Congregational  principles ;  while 
English  Presbyterian  Puritans  and  their  Scot- 
tish fellow-believers,  like  Charles  Herle,  William 
Rathband,  and  Professor  Samuel  Rutherford,  re- 
plied with  a  keen  critique  of  the  New  England 
position.  The  controversy  waxed  so  warm  and 
seemed  to  the  New  England  divines  so  impor- 
tant that  the  ministers  assembled  at  Cambridge 
on  July  I,  1645,  examined  and  approved  several 
answering  treatises  which  had  been  prepared  in 
refutation  of  these  Presbyterian  criticisms.  One 
of  these  was  Hooker's  "  Survey,"  in  which  the 
Hartford  minister  laboriously  and  minutely  trav- 
ersed the  ground  covered  in  the  volume  en- 
titled "  The  Due  Right  of  Presbyteries,"  which 
Samuel  Rutherford,  the  vigorous  professor  of 
divinity  at  St.  Andrew's,  had  put  forth  in  1644. 
The  manuscript  of  this  painstaking  work  started 
for  England  on  that  ship  which  sailed  from  New 


ii6  THOMAS  HOOKER 

Haven  harbor  one  cold  winter's  day  in  January^ 
1646,  and  the  otherwise  unknown  fate  of  which 
was  believed  to  have  been  mysteriously  signified 
in  the  strange  mirage  or  apparition  which  was 
seen  by  the  people  of  New  Haven  nearly  two 
years  and  a  half  later,  and  formed  so  curious  an 
episode  in  the  story  of  early  New  England  cre- 
dulity. The  manuscript  thus  lost.  Hooker,  after 
much  hesitation,  attempted  to  reproduce ;  and  he 
was  still  engaged  on  the  task  at  the  time  of  his 
death,  so  that  the  form  in  which  it  was  at  last  pub- 
lished by  his  friends,  in  1648,  was  very  imperfect. 
And  this  incompleteness,  combined  with  the  mi- 
nuteness with  which  he  attempts  to  refute  Ruth- 
erford's involved  argument,  makes  the  volume 
exceedingly  tedious  reading.  But  the  preface  of 
the  volume  as  it  stands  is  evidently  a  copy  of 
that  originally  prepared  in  1645;  and  it  con- 
tains one  of  the  most  luminous  and  compact 
expressions  of  Congregational  principles  to  be 
found  in  the  hterature  of  early  New  England. 
Its  language  is  technical,  but  its  meaning  is 
simple  and  clear. 

If  [says  Hooker]  the  Reader  shall  demand  how  far 
this  way  of  Church-proceeding  receives  approbation  by 
any  common  concurrence  amongst  us ;  /  shall  plainly 
and  punctually  expresse  my  self  in  a  word  of  truth ^  in  these 
following  points^  viz. 


THOMAS  HOOKER  117 

Visible  Saints  are  the  only  true  and  meet  matter 
whereof  a  visible  Church  should  be  gathered,  and  con- 
foederation  is  the  form. 

The  Church  as  Totum  esseniiale^  is,  and  may  be, 
before  Officers. 

.  .  .  Each  Congregation  compleatly  constituted  of 
all  Officers,  hath  sufficient  power  in  her  self,  to  exercise 
the  power  of  the  keyes,  and  all  Church  discipline,  in  all 
the  censures  thereof. 

Ordination  is  not  before  election. 

There  ought  to  be  no  ordination  of  a  Minister  at 
large,  Namely^  such  as  should  make  him  Pastour  without  a 
People. 

The  election  of  the  people  hath  an  instrumental! 
causall  vertue  under  Christ,  to  give  an  outward  call  unto 
an  Officer. 

Ordination  is  only  a  solemn  installing  of  an  Officer 
into  the  Office,  unto  which  he  was  formerly  called.  .  .  . 

Consociation  of  Churches  should  be  used,  as  occa- 
sion doth  require. 

Such  consociations  and  Synods  have  allowance  to 
counsell  and  admonish  other  Churches,  as  the  case  may 
require.  .  .  . 

But  they  have  no  power  to  excommunicate.  Nor 
do  their  constitutions  binde  formaliter  &  juridice. 

To  Hooker's  thinking,  therefore,  a  true  church 
of  Christ  is  a  company  of  Christian  people  united 
to  one  another  in  the  service  of  God  by  a  vol- 
untary  covenant   and    under  the   spiritual   over- 


ii8  THOMAS  HOOKER 

lordship  of  Christ.  Such  a  congregation  possesses 
full  and  complete  authority  to  administer  its  own 
affairs,  choose  and  ordain  its  own  officers,  and 
govern  its  members.  We  have  here  presented, 
in  the  clearest  and  most  succinct  form,  that  dem- 
ocratic conception  of  the  self-governing  indepen- 
dence of  the  local  congregation  characteristic  of 
the  founders  of  New  England,  but  especially 
congenial  to  the  democratic  spirit  of  Hooker,  and 
destined  to  be  vastly  influential  in  the  develop- 
ment, not  only  of  New  England,  but  of  Amer- 
ican political  and  religious  Hfe.  And,  while  we 
cannot  claim  for  Hooker  any  such  pre-eminence 
in  the  formation  of  Congregational  polity  as  be- 
longs to  him  in  the  assertion  of  principles  of 
democratic  civil  government,  he  ranks  with 
Cotton  and  Mather  and  Davenport  as  one  of 
the  great  expounders  of  the  characteristic  relig- 
ious polity  of  New  England. 

It  is  interesting  to  observe,  however,  that  this 
man  of  power  in  the  pulpit  and  of  leadership  in 
matters  of  State  was  as  marked  by  kindness  and 
wisdom  in  the  conduct  of  the  affairs  of  the 
church  of  which  he  was  the  pastor  as  by  force- 
fulness  and  clearness  in  the  exposition  of  prob- 
lems of  more  public  concern.  Cotton  Mather 
records  of  his  relations  to  the  congregation  of  his 
Hartford    ministry    that,    "  as    for    ecclesiastical 


THOMAS  HOOKER  119 

censures,  he  was  very  watchful  to  prevent  all 
procedures  unto  them,  as  far  as  was  consistent 
with  the  rules  of  our  Lord ;  for  which  cause  (ex- 
cept in  grosser  abominations)  when  offences  hap- 
pened he  did  his  utmost  that  the  notice  thereof 
might  be  extended  no  further  than  it  was  when 
they  were  first  laid  before  him ;  and  having  rec- 
onciled the  offenders  with  sensible  and  convenient 
acknowledgements  of  their  miscarriages,  he  would 
let  the  notice  thereof  be  confined  unto  such  as 
were  aforehand  therewith  acquainted ;  and  hence 
there  was  but  one  person  admonished  in  and  but 
one  person  excommunicated  from,  the  Church  of 
Hartford,  in  all  the  fourteen  years  that  Mr. 
Hooker  lived  there." 

It  would  have  been  fortunate  for  the  early 
New  England  churches  if  all  of  their  pastors  had 
been  as  profound  in  their  knowledge  of  human 
nature  and  as  wise  and  charitable  in  their  conduct 
of  church  affairs  as  this  leader  of  Connecticut. 

Hooker's  pastorate  at  Hartford  terminated  by 
his  death,  after  a  brief  illness,  on  July  7,  1647. 
The  story  recorded  of  his  last  hours  may  well  be 
true,  and,  if  so,  seems  characteristically  illustrative 
of  his  humility  of  spirit. 

"  When  one  that  stood  weeping  by  the  bed- 
side said  unto  him,  '  Sir,  you  are  going  to  receive 
the  reward  of  all  your  labors,'  he  replied, '  Brother, 


I20  THOMAS  HOOKER 

I  am  going  to  receive  mercy,'"  —  an  expression 
typical,  we  may  think,  of  this  eminent  Puritan's 
lowly  estimate  of  himself  and  of  his  humble  walk 
with  the  God  who  had  seemed  to  him  the 
greatest  of  all  realities. 

Hooker's  friends  and  ministerial  associates 
strove  to  express,  in  the  halting  and  elaborate 
verses  characteristic  of  the  essentially  unpoetic 
writings  of  early  New  England,  their  sense  of  the 
greatness  of  their  loss  and  of  the  mental  and 
spiritual  stature  of  the  one  who  had  gone  from 
them.  Thus  John  Cotton  of  your  own  Boston 
tried  to  versify  his  lament :  — 

'Twas  of  Geiuvahs  Worthies  said,  with  wonder, 
(Those  Worthies  Three  :)    Farell  was  wont  to  Thunder  j 
Viret^  like  Rain,  on  tender  grasse  to  shower, 
But  Calvin^  lively  Oracles  to  pour. 

All  these  in  Hookers  spirit  did  remain 

A  Sonne  of  Thunder,  and  a  shower  of  Rain, 

A  pourer-forth  of  lively  Oracles, 

In  saving  souls,  the  summe  of  miracles. 

Now  blessed  Hooker^  thou  art  set  on  high. 

Above  the  thanklesse  world,  and  cloudy  sky : 

Doe  thou  of  all  thy  labour  reape  the  Crown, 

Whilst  we  here  reape  the  seed,  which  thou  hast  sowen. 

We  may  well  comprehend  their  sense  of  loss, 
and  the  feeling  that  it  was  Uke  the  shutting  in 


THOMAS  HOOKER  121 

of  the  evening  of  a  glorious  day  to  see  one  and 
another  of  the  leaders  of  New  England  pass  from 
the  scene  of  their  labors.  Men  who  had  grown 
to  their  stature  in  a  contest  of  national  propor- 
tions in  the  old  country  and  in  the  foundation  of 
colonies  beyond  the  ocean,  they  left  no  succes- 
sors behind  them  of  equal  gifts  and  similar 
eminence.  The  more  provincial,  narrow,  and 
prosaic  New  England  of  the  second  generation 
might  well  see  in  the  departure  of  these  great 
men  of  the  earlier  time  the  loss  of  a  radiance 
and  an  honor  which  had  illuminated  the  begin- 
nings of  New  England  life.  But  we,  who  are 
better  able  than  they  to  trace  the  extent  of  our 
indebtedness  to  the  founders  of  New  England, 
when  we  recall  the  name  of  Thomas  Hooker, 
cannot  fail  to  pay  our  homage  to  the  memory 
of  one  who  so  asserted  the  principles  of  democ- 
racy in  civil  affairs  and  of  congregational  self- 
government  in  the  church  as  to  influence  perma- 
nently the  development  of  the  peculiar  ideals 
for  which  New  England  has  stood  and  has  made 
significant  in  American  life. 


IV 


William  Penn  and  the  Gospel  of  the 
Inner  Light 


WILLIAM    PENN   AND   THE   GOSPEL 
OF  THE  INNER  LIGHT. 

The  gospel  of  the  Inner  Light,  the  doctrine 
that  God  makes  himself  known  directly  to  the 
souls  of  men  everywhere  and  in  all  ages,  was  the 
final  and  highest  word  of  the  Puritan  Reforma- 
tion. It  originated  in  a  great,  epoch-making 
spiritual  experience,  or  group  of  spiritual  experi- 
ences, in  an  age  when  life  had  largely  departed 
from  the  established  religious  forms  and  spiritual 
darkness  was  heavy  upon  the  people. 

The  principle  had  lain  from  the  beginning 
enfolded  in  Christian  teaching,  and  in  all  true 
Christian  life,  but  without  enunciation  and  inter- 
pretation. Indeed,  it  had  lain  at  the  heart  of 
everything  that  deserved  to  be  called  religion, 
from  the  beginning  of  human  thought  about  the 
invisible  Author  of  the  universe  and  of  human 
reverence  and  worship.  Serious  men  had  always 
felt,  and  in  measure  realized,  that  God  appeared 
to  them  within,  however  much,  from  custom  and 
association,  they  tried  to  discover,  or  did  discover, 
him  without.  But  this  truth,  like  every  great 
truth,  became  a  gospel  of  power  for  the  liberation 
and  enlargement  of  men*s  lives  only  when  it  was 


126  WILLIAM  PENN 

articulately  set  forth  by  persons  who  had  mastered 
its  secret. 

From  the  theological  point  of  view  the  princi- 
ple sprang  as  a  corollary  from  the  primary  truth 
of  the  universal  and  impartial  love  of  God  as 
Father  of  the  human  race,  which  the  early  Friends 
vigorously  maintained  against  the  stiff  and  heart- 
less predestinarianism  of  the  time.  Love  is 
light,  they  saw  and  felt.  The  God  who  loved 
all  men  must  of  necessity  communicate  himself 
to  the  souls  of  all.  The  True  Light,  which 
came  into  the  world  as  the  supreme  revelation  of 
the  character  of  God,  must  light  every  man,  in 
measure,  in  all  ages  and  all  times.  The  historic 
manifestation  was  only  the  revelation  in  a  special 
and  superlative  way  of  a  process  coeval  with 
human  society.  Thus  the  first  promulgators  of 
the  gospel  of  the  Inner  Light  supported  by 
simple  but  unanswerable  theological  judgments 
what  they  had  realized  in  their  own  experience 
to  be  true. 

It  w^ould  be  most  interesting  and  instructive  to 
examine  critically  the  relations  of  the  doctrine  of 
the  Inner  Light  to  the  historic  Christ,  to  the  con- 
science, and  to  the  general  philosophy  of  the 
Christian  religion  ;  but  the  purposes  and  limits  of 
this  address  do  not  permit  the  entrance  of  this 
field.     We  are  to  study  to-day  the  part  which  this 


WILLIAM  PENN  127 

truth  has  played  in  the  establishment  and  devel- 
opment of  religious  liberty. 

The  first  effect  of  a  clear  perception  of  the  fact 
that  God  communicates  himself  directly  to  all 
human  souls  is  a  sense  of  the  place  and  value  of 
the  individual  personality.  He  to  whom  God 
speaks,  whom  God  deems  worthy  to  receive  his 
direct  messages,  must  have  a  high  intrinsic  worth, 
must  be,  potentially  at  least,  a  king  by  divine 
right  within  the  domain  of  his  own  being.  He 
must  be  his  own  priest,  offer  up  his  own  sacrifices, 
do  his  own  worshipping.  However  much  he 
may  resort  to  others  for  instruction  and  help,  he 
must  in  the  last  appeal  be  his  own  interpreter  of 
what  he  is  to  believe  and  follow. 

Just  here  is  found  the  primal  secret  of  religious 
liberty,  indeed  of  all  liberty.  Out  of  this  experi- 
ence of  inner  connection  and  communion  with  the 
Highest  comes  to  all  serious  souls  self-respect  be- 
fore God  and  man,  the  exaltation  and  supremacy 
of  conscience,  the  purpose  to  realize  one's  own 
place  and  destiny,  a  fine  sense  of  obligation  to  a 
life  of  godliness  and  manliness.  The  soul  that 
realizes  this  high  prerogative  can  admit  of  no 
lordship  of  men  over  it.  It  is  to  God  alone  that 
it  bows  in  reverent  and  loving  submission,  and 
says,  "  Thy  will  be  done."  With  the  self-respect 
and  the  devotion  to  righteousness  come  courage 


128  WILLIAM  PENN 

and  endurance    in   the    face    of  persecution    and 
suffering,  if  these  have   to  be  met. 

This  secret  of  liberty  and  of  earnest,  patient, 
heroic  effort  for  its  attainment  has  been  the  com- 
mon possession  of  all  the  prophets  and  martyrs  of 
freedom,  though  realized  less  clearly  and  fully  by 
some  than  by  others.  It  inspired,  directed  and 
upheld  the  Pilgrims  and,  in  somewhat  less  meas- 
ure, the  Puritans,  as  well  as  the  Friends,  both  in 
the  Old  World  and  in  the  New,  in  their  great 
moral  struggle  for  liberty  of  self-directed  worship. 
It  was  the  guiding  star  of  John  Robinson,  of 
William  Brewster,  of  Thomas  Hooker,  and  of 
Roger  Williams,  no  less  than  of  George  Fox  and 
of  William  Penn,  though  it  did  not  lead  them 
all  equally  far. 

But  the  principle  of  the  direct  light  of  God  in 
the  human  soul,  the  spiritual  side  of  the  now 
generally  accepted  doctrine  of  the  divine  imma- 
nence, had  a  still  deeper  effect  upon  the  minds 
of  those  who  felt  the  fulness  of  its  power.  It  cre- 
ated intelligent,  large-minded  respect  for  others, — 
a  much  greater  thing  than  self-respect, —  and 
much  more  productive  of  freedom  in  its  wider 
social  and  political  aspects.  Self-respect  is  not  a 
very  difficult  accomplishment  for  thoughtful  and 
sincere  men :  it  grows  with  small  nurture  directly 
out  of  the  elemental  instincts  of  self-preservation 


WILLIAM  PENN  129 

and  self-expression.  Respect  for  others,  sincere 
and  abiding,  without  which  there  can  be  no 
social  liberty,  is  the  most  difficult  of  spiritual 
attainments. 

It  was  just  here  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Inner 
Light  produced  one  of  its  finest  fruits.  If  God 
reveals  himself  to  the  souls  of  other  men  besides 
one's  self,  in  however  dim  a  way,  then  these  other 
men  have  the  stamp  of  worthiness  put  upon  them 
by  the  Most  High  himself.  Whom  God  respects 
and  treats  in  this  high  way  as  he  treats  me,  I 
must  respect  as  I  respect  myself  Whom  God 
has  cleansed  I  must  not  call  common.  I  must 
leave  him  free  to  think,  to  respond  to  God  in  his 
own  way.  I  must  not  put  him  into  any  spiritual 
bonds,  for  thereby  I  shall  exalt  myself  above  God 
and  dishonor  Him  from  whom  my  own  light 
comes. 

Respect  for  others  which  is  born  of  this  source 
knows  no  limit.  Men  may  differ  with  me  in 
thought  as  widely  as  the  poles  are  apart :  I  shall 
still  respect  them.  I  shall  uphold  for  them  the 
liberty  to  think,  and  to  speak  as  they  think,  as  I 
claim  these  prerogatives  for  myself.  They  may 
be  wicked  and  unworthy,  and  I  may  feel  myself 
bound  in  duty  to  try  to  bring  them  back  to  the 
path  of  goodness ;  but  even  thus  I  shall  employ 
only  the   high  art  of  persuasion   and  reproof  by 


I30 


WILLIAM  PENN 


truth  and  love,  and  not  the  low  art  of  compulsion 
by  brute  force  and  persecution.  They  may  be 
my  enemies,  bitter  and  injurious ;  but  even  so  I 
shall  refuse  to  lower  myself  to  hate  and  harm  and 
enslave  them,  because  of  the  common  relation 
which  they  and  I  hold  to  God. 

The  Friends  of  the  seventeenth  century  carried 
this  principle  of  respect  for  others,  so  deeply  in- 
volved in  the  principle  of  the  Inner  Light,  to  its 
logical  conclusion.  They  granted  to  others  with- 
out regard  to  creed  what  they  claimed  for  them- 
selves. Herein  they  differed  from  all  other  types 
of  the  Puritans,  with  rare  exceptions,  and  went 
beyond  all  other  leaders  of  the  Reformation  up 
to  their  time.  The  Puritans  in  general,  in  spite 
of  the  great  stress  which  they  laid  upon  the  Bible 
as  the  supreme  standard  of  faith  and  practice, 
believed  in  the  direct  communication  of  God 
with  the  soul, —  at  any  rate,  with  their  own  souls. 
But  they  did  not  go  far  enough  to  see  the 
wider  aspects  of  this  truth.  The  self-respect  in 
which  the  principle  issues  they  felt  strongly,  and 
were  ready  to  undergo  all  sacrifices  to  attain  per- 
sonal liberty  and  liberty  for  those  who  believed 
as  they  did.  But  of  genuine  religious  respect  for 
others,  for  those  of  pronouncedly  different  relig- 
ious conceptions,  they  knew  little.  They  were 
not  only  not  willing    to  undergo  sacrifices  and 


WILLIAM  PENN  131 

sufferings  for  the  sake  of  the  liberty  of  other 
sectaries  to  think  and  speak  as  they  thought,  but 
they  undertook,  where  they  had  the  power,  to 
compel  by  force  conformity  to  their  own  tenets. 
They  became  persecutors,  and  did  men  and 
women  to  death  for  insisting  on  the  same  liberty 
of  religious  thought,  interpretation  and  statement 
which  they  had  suffered  all  manner  of  hardship  to 
obtain  for  themselves. 

The  promulgators  of  the  gospel  of  the  Inner 
Light  not  only  conceded  liberty  of  thought  and 
speech  to  others  :  they  suffered  and  died  for  the 
spiritual  rights  and  liberties  of  those  of  other 
beliefs  as  they  did  for  their  own.  They  never 
persecuted,  or  showed  the  least  spirit  of  persecu- 
tion, even  when  they  had  the  power,  as  in 
the  colonies  of  Pennsylvania  and  West  Jersey. 
They  did  not  retaliate  against  those  who  had 
maltreated  them  and  sent  many  of  their  choicest 
members  to  prison  and  to  death.  They  thus 
won  for  themselves  and  for  humanity,  on  this 
high  ground,  one  of  the  greatest  victories  of 
liberty  — many  think  the  greatest  —  ever  gained, 
and  left  incorporated  in  our  civilization  —  let  us 
hope  for  all  time  —  what  is  a  commonplace  to-day, 
namely,  the  principle  of  respect  for  the  personal- 
ities, the  intellectual  and  spiritual  liberties,  of 
other  men  than  one's  self     So  accustomed  are  we 


132  WILLIAM  PENN 

in  this  day  to  enjoy  this  priceless  boon  that  it  is 
difficult  for  us  to  credit  the  fact  that  at  least  one 
person  died  in  prison  for  it  every  month  during 
the  entire  reign  of  Charles  I. 

But' the  gospel  of  the  Inner  Light  carried  its 
apostles  one  final  step  further.  They  saw  that 
the  sharers  in  the  directly  communicated  light  of 
God  were  thereby  treated  as  members  of  a  com- 
mon family.  That  is  what  gave  the  doctrine  of 
universal  brotherhood  so  profound  a  meaning  to 
them,  and  made  them  its  unwavering  exponents 
and  defenders  when  it  had  no  other  friends. 
Brotherhood,  in  their  conception,  was  not  a  mere 
sentimental  correlate  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God, 
held  as  a  philosophic  theory.  Its  basis  was 
deeper  also  than  the  likenesses  everywhere  ob- 
served among  men  and  their  dependences  upon 
one  another.  Beyond  all  these  grounds  for 
treating  their  fellow-men  as  brethren  they  saw 
God  himself  conducting  himself  as  a  father 
toward  them,  as  well  as  toward  themselves,  and 
doing  this  in  the  deepest  and  truest  way.  They 
saw  him  holding  communion  with  them,  en- 
lightening, instructing,  inspiring,  guiding,  sup- 
porting, comforting,  as  well  as  reproving  and 
disciplining  them  with  a  father's  faithfulness, 
patience,  and  wisdom.  The  brotherhood  of  men 
was    thus    to    them    a  practical    divine    kinships 


WILLIAM  PENN  133 

founded  in  the  active  Fatherhood  of  God,  to  be 
cherished  as  sacredly  as  the  relationships  be- 
tween the  members  of  a  true  family. 

The  Friends  were  thus  carried  by  their  gospel  of 
Inward  Light  into  the  most  active  manifestations 
of  the  spirit  of  brotherhood, —  the  effort  to  bring 
men  to  the  realization  of  a  life  essentially  divine, 
the  uplifting  of  the  down-trodden,  the  deliverance 
of  those  in  bondage,  the  amelioration  of  the  lot 
of  prisoners  and  other  unfortunates,  universal 
religious  liberty,  the  endeavor  to  secure  for  all 
equality  of  rights  before  the  law.  It  was  their 
practice  of  brotherhood,  when  they  were  perse- 
cuted as  well  as  when  they  were  left  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  their  rights,  not  their  theories  about  it, 
that  made  their  work  from  the  middle  to  the 
close  of  the  seventeenth  century  probably  the 
greatest  and  most  wide-reaching  contribution  to 
religious  and  civil  liberty  ever  yet  made.  Only 
those  who  practise  brotherhood  can  long  hold  any 
true  theory  of  it  or  really  promote  it.  These 
men  filled  the  world  with  their  doctrine  of  the 
ideal  brotherhood  of  man,  and  by  their  practice 
of  what  they  preached  made  it  seem  something 
more  than  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  dream. 

Of  this  group  of  men  who  made  the  gospel 
of  the  Inner  Light  a  permanent  part  of  all  sub- 


134  WILLIAM  PENN 

sequent  religious  thought,  the  most  conspicuous 
in  the  practical  application  of  its  principles  to 
social  and  political  problems  was  William  Penn, 
the  stateliest,  shapeliest,  manliest  figure  of  the 
second  half  of  the  seventeenth  century,  a  man 
now  always  placed  in  the  list  of  the  few  really 
great  men  of  history. 

Penn  came  upon  the  scene  at  a  very  critical 
time  in  the  history  of  the  development  of  relig- 
ious freedom.  The  great  wave  of  the  Puritan 
Reformation  had  practically  spent  itself.  All 
the  prominent  Puritan  leaders  —  William  Brew- 
ster, John  Robinson,  John  Winthrop,  John  Cot- 
ton, Thomas  Hooker,  John  Hampden,  John 
Pym,  John  Milton,  Oliver  Cromwell,  Sir  Harry 
Vane  —  were  gone.  Roger  Williams,  the  only 
other  colonial  leader,  with  the  possible  exception 
of  Thomas  Hooker,  who  went  as  far  as  William 
Penn  in  his  advocacy  of  religious  liberty,  was 
worn  out  and  dying.  The  Royalist  party,  with 
its  high-handed  monarchical  proclivities  and  its 
unblushing  corruptions,  had  been  restored ;  and 
Charles  II.  and  then  his  brother  James 
dictated  from  the  throne  —  or  attempted  to 
dictate  —  both  the  politics  and  the  religion  of 
the  nation.  Algernon  Sidney  had  been  banished, 
and  was  living  in  exile  in  Rome.  It  was  the 
period  of  the  infamous  Jeffreys  and  his  Bloody 


WILLIAM  PENN 


35 


Assizes.  The  party  of  pure  religion  and  of 
popular  rights,  though  strong  among  the  masses, 
was  for  the  time  being  submerged.  Puritanism 
itself  was  degenerating  into  a  hard-and-fast 
ecclesiasticism,  and  in  its  strife  for  political  as 
well  as  religious  ascendency  was  losing  much  of 
its  original  spirit  and  becoming  intensely  bigoted 
and  intolerant.  In  New  England  it  had  only 
been  saved  from  moral  shipwreck  at  the  hands 
of  the  clergymen  and  the  magistrates  by  the 
influence  of  Roger  Williams  and  his  friends,  and 
by  the  heroic  treatment  of  a  group  of  followers 
of  the  Inner  Light,  the  remarkable  voyage  of 
whose  "  Mayflower,"  the  "  Woodhouse,"  is  only 
less  famous  than  that  of  the  ship  of  the  Pilgrims, 
because  it  was  not  the  first  to  be  made.  The 
severe  persecution  of  these  men  and  women  and 
the  final  martyrdom  of  a  number  of  them  created 
a  reaction  among  the  people,  and  ultimately  re- 
stored to  Massachusetts  the  spirit  which  had 
planted  Plymouth  Colony. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  whole  scope  of  relig- 
ious biography  more  interesting  than  the  manner 
in  which  William  Penn  became  a  spiritually  free 
man,  an  experience  through  which  one  must  have 
passed  himself  before  he  can  do  anything  eff^ec- 
tive  for  the  freedom  of  others.  Nearly  every- 
thing in  his  inheritance  and  home  surroundings 


136  WILLIAM  PENN 

was  of  a  nature  to  make  him  the  pliant  slave 
of  circumstances.  No  man  was  ever  less  so. 
What  he  heard  in  the  Puritan  atmosphere  at  the 
school  at  Wanstead  about  civil  liberty  and  the 
rights  of  Parliament  doubtless  had  much  influ- 
ence with  him,  but  it  is  entirely  inadequate  to 
account  for  the  course  which  he  took.  That 
can  only  be  explained  as  the  result  of  the  work 
of  God  within  him.  Born  a  RoyaHst,  of  a  father 
who  was  a  heavy  drinker  and  a  glutton,  as  well 
as  a  man  of  rough  military  life  and  habits,  Penn 
had,  on  the  one  hand,  a  restless,  impetuous, 
combative  disposition,  fond  of  dress  and  pleasure, 
ready  to  run  the  common  course  dictated  by 
custom  and  self-interest.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  was  characterized  by  a  thoughtful,  contempla- 
tive, sincere,  pure-minded,  richly  religious  nature, 
on  which  the  light  of  God  fell  as  the  rain  and 
sunshine  upon  a  deep,  fertile  soil. 

The  struggle  in  him  between  the  earthy  and 
the  spiritual  began  at  the  early  age  of  twelve  and 
lasted  for  nearly  a  dozen  years.  He  had  at  this 
age,  while  alone  in  his  room,  what  he  always  be- 
lieved to  be  a  special  visitation  of  God's  spirit, 
which  awakened  all  that  was  best  in  him,  inspired 
and  comforted  him,  made  him  feel  that  God  was 
in  direct  communication  with  him,  and  that  he 
was  called  to  a  holy  life.     The  conflict  through 


WILLIAM  PENN  137 

which  he  passed  till  his  twenty-third  year  was 
a  very  trying  one.  At  Oxford,  where  he  studied 
for  three  years,  he  was  fined  and  then  expelled 
from  his  college  because  he  preferred  Quaker 
meetings  to  the  regular  church  services,  and, 
as  report  has  it,  joined  the  Puritan  students  in 
tearing  off  the  surpHces  from  the  Royalist  boys. 
He  was  sent  to  France  later,  to  cure  him  of  his 
deepening  religious  tendencies.  The  court  of 
Louis  XIV.,  at  which  he  was  introduced,  was 
then  at  the  height  of  its  brilliancy.  Under  the 
influence  of  the  court  and  its  surroundings  he  fell 
away  from  his  best  light  into  a  life  of  pleasure 
and  vanity,  though  never,  he  assures  us,  into 
impurity,  profanity,  or  even  vulgarity  of  speech. 

Returning  home  a  well-educated  and  polished 
young  gentleman,  well  versed  in  theology, —  which 
he  had  read  at  Saumur  under  the  distinguished 
Moses  Ameyrault, —  his  father  set  him  to  study 
law  at  Lincoln's  Inn  ;  but,  observing  during  the 
time  of  the  great  plague  that  his  son  was  turning 
again  to  a  serious  life,  he  put  him  into  business 
and  military  positions,  which,  he  thought,  would 
prevent  any  return  of  his  former  religious  ideas. 
But  these  were  living  in  him,  and  had  silently  de- 
veloped during  his  stay  abroad. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-three  another  special  call 
came  to  him  through  the  preaching  of  Thomas 


138  WILLIAM  PENN 

Loe,  a  Friend  whom  he  had  heard  at  Oxford. 
This  time  his  final  decision  was  made,  and  he  was 
henceforth  a  son  of  the  Inner  Light  and  a  free 
man.  His  father  protested,  entreated,  stormed, 
whipped  him,  beat  him,  turned  him  out  of  doors. 
But  it  was  all  in  vain.  Young  Penn,  with  his  face 
toward  the  sun,  stood  his  ground,  and  entered  at 
once  upon  that  consecrated,  divinely  guided,  ear- 
nest, steadfast,  patient,  benevolent  life,  which  was 
to  be  so  fruitful  in  the  promotion  of  both  relig- 
ious and  civil  liberty  to  the  people  of  his  own  and 
of  subsequent  times. 

Penn's  spiritual  freedom,  it  may  be  remarked 
in  passing,  was  of  that  rare  kind  which  avoids 
asceticism  and  austerity,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
every  form  of  impurity  and  looseness,  on  the 
other.  He  relished,  as  occasion  offered,  all  the 
lawful  pleasures  of  life  ;  but  the  corrupt,  obscene, 
and  disgustingly  low  manners  and  habits  of  peo- 
ple in  high  places,  among  whom  he  was  so  often 
cast  at  court  and  elsewhere,  made  not  the  least 
inroad  upon  the  purity  and  loftiness  of  his 
soul.  He  walked  in  the  light  of  God ;  and  that 
light  kept  him  clean  and  strong,  and  therefore 
free. 

The  fruit  of  the  principles  which  had  mastered 
his  soul  began  at  once  to  manifest  itself.  During 
the  next  fifteen  years,  which  he  spent  in  preaching 


WILLIAM  PENN  139 

the  new  gospel  and  suffering  for  it,  his  work  for 
rehgious  freedom  was  as  constant,  brave  and 
effective  as  was  ever  done  in  England.  His  high 
social  standing  and  friendly  connection  with  the 
royal  family  put  him  into  a  position  of  extraor- 
dinary influence ;  and  this,  though  often  exposing 
him  to  suspicion  and  vituperation,  he  never 
failed  to  use  in  behalf  of  the  liberties  of 
all  his  fellow-citizens,  without  regard  to  creed. 
He  became,  because  of  the  unequalled  depth 
and  breadth  of  his  conceptions,  his  impar- 
tial and  incessant  efforts  and  the  faithfulness  with 
which  he  used  his  position  of  commanding  influ- 
ence, the  foremost  of  the  seventeenth-century 
apostles  of  religious  liberty. 

When  imprisoned  himself,  as  he  was  several 
times,  Penn  addressed  powerful  appeals  for  liberty 
of  conscience  and  civil  freedom  to  those  in  au- 
thority. V/hen  out  of  prison,  he  did  the  same  for 
others,  Catholics  as  well  as  Protestants.  In  his 
letter  to  the  Earl  of  Orrery,  Lord  President  of 
Munster,  on  the  occasion  of  his  first  imprison- 
ment, he  touched  the  great  springs  of  all  his  future 
efforts  for  liberty, —  the  inalienable  rights  of  con- 
science, the  principles  of  English  liberty  as  set 
forth  in  the  Great  Charter,  and  the  evil  effects  to 
the  State  of  religious  intolerance.  Imprisoned  in 
the  Tower  for  nine  weary  months  on  a  charge  of 


I40  WILLIAM  PENN 

blasphemy,  because  he  had  in  one  of  his  books 
criticised  the  crude  tri-theism  of  the  time,  when 
told  that  the  Bishop  of  London  had  determined 
that  he  should  recant  or  die  a  prisoner,  he  re- 
plied :  "  My  prison  shall  be  my  grave  before  I 
will  budge  a  jot,  for  I  owe  my  conscience  to  no 
mortal  man.  I  have  no  need  to  fear :  God  will 
make  amends  for  all.  They  are  mistaken  in  me. 
I  value  not  their  threats  and  resolutions  ;  for  they 
shall  know  I  can  weary  out  their  malice  and  peev- 
ishness, and  in  me  shall  they  behold  a  resolution 
above  fear,  conscience  above  cruelty,  and  a  baffle 
put  to  all  their  designs  by  the  spirit  of  patience. 
...  A  hair  of  my  head  shall  not  fall  without  the 
providence  of  my  Father  that  is  over  all."  He 
did  not  budge  a  jot,  nor  did  he  die  in  prison,  nor 
did  a  hair  of  his  head  fall. 

The  trial  of  William  Penn  and  William  Mead 
in  1670,  while  the  Conventicle  Act  was  in  force, 
for  speaking  at  a  meeting  in  Grace  Church  Street, 
when  they  had  been  locked  out  of  their  own 
house  of  worship,  was  one  of  the  most  memorable 
in  English  history.  It  took  place  eighteen  years 
before  the  famous  trial  of  the  seven  bishops, 
described  so  graphically  by  Macaulay's  brilliant 
pen.  The  victory  for  justice  in  which  it  resulted 
was  also  greater  than  that  in  the  case  of  the 
bishops,  because  the  matter  at  stake  was  not,  as 


WILLIAM  PENN  141 

in  the  latter,  a  mere  question  of  supremacy  be- 
tween Protestant  and  Catholic,  but  the  wider  and 
deeper  question  of  general  religious  toleration 
and  universal  civil  rights  against  lawless  bigotry 
and  tyranny. 

The  trial  was  held  at  the  Old  Bailey.  Penn's 
defence,  which  he  conducted  himself  without 
counsel,  was  that  the  Conventicle  Act,  which  he 
did  not  deny  that  he  had  broken,  was  in  viola- 
tion of  the  principles  of  the  Great  Charter.  His 
knowledge  of  the  law  enabled  him  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  errors  and  falsehoods  of  the  in- 
dictment, which  included  the  charge  of  taking 
part  in  a  tumultuous  and  disorderly  assembly. 
In  spite  of  the  most  shameless  attempts  of  the 
court  to  silence  him,  he  stood  his  ground,  and 
made  a  masterly  defence  of  himself  and  com- 
panion. 

When  the  jury  brought  in  the  verdict, ''  Guilty 
of  speaking  in  Grace  Church  Street,"  the  magis- 
trates were  furious,  and  ordered  a  new  verdict. 
The  jurymen  went  out,  and  immediately  returned 
with  the  same  verdict.  It  was  again  rejected  by 
the  court.  Time  after  time,  though  brutally 
threatened  and  maltreated,  these  brave  men  came 
back  with  the  same  judgment.  Two  days  and 
nights  they  were  kept  without  bed  or  food  or 
even  water.     When    they  came  in    for    the    last 


142 


WILLIAM  PENN 


time,  they  had  changed  the  mock  verdict  into  a 
real  one, —  "Not  guilty."  The  magistrates  were 
dumb  with  anger  and  amazement.  The  crowd 
in  the  court-room  broke  forth  into  excited  dem- 
onstrations of  approval.  In  their  fury  the  mag- 
istrates fined  both  the  prisoners  and  the  jury  for 
contempt  of  court.  Penn  strode  forward  to  the 
bench,  and  in  the  name  of  the  fundamental  laws 
of  England  demanded  his  liberty  in  accordance 
with  the  verdict.  It  was  denied  him.  Refusing 
to  pay  their  fines,  they  were  all  committed  to 
Newgate.  The  jury,  following  Penn's  advice, 
brought  suit  against  the  mayor  and  recorder  for 
false  imprisonment.  They  carried  the  case  to 
the  Court  of  Common  Pleas,  and  won.  The 
judges  declared  unanimously  that  a  jury  had 
absolute  freedom  in  rendering  its  verdict.  It 
was  a  great  victory  for  simple  truth  and  justice, 
and  did  much  to  strengthen  the  foundations  of 
the  growing  structure  of  English  constitutional 
liberty. 

Penn's  written  protests  against  religious  per- 
secution and  pleas  for  civil  and  religious  liberty 
were  numerous,  and  among  the  most  noble  and 
effective  in  the  whole  history  of  English  reform. 
They  were  in  homely,  unpolished  Anglo-Saxon 
English ;  but  they  struck  hard,  and  went  straight 
to  the  heart  of  the  matters  dealt  with.      Memo- 


WILLIAM  PENN  143 

rials  to  the  High  Court  of  Parliament,  to  the 
sheriffs  of  London,  to  justices  and  lords ;  his 
speeches  before  a  committee  of  Parliament,  and 
before  King  James  on  presenting  an  address  of 
the  Friends ;  his  treatise  on  "  The  Great  Case  of 
Liberty  of  Conscience,"  in  which  he  musters  an 
array  of  historic  example  and  precedent  that  re- 
minds one  of  John  Milton  ;  his  "  Address  to  the 
Protestants  of  All  Persuasions";  his  tractate  on 
"England's  Present  Interest";  his  "  Project  for 
the  Good  of  England  "  ;  his  political  manifesto  on 
"  England's  Great  Interest  in  the  Choice  of  a  New 
Parliament,"  in  which  he  set  forth  the  principles  — 
fundamental  for  all  time  —  in  accordance  with 
which  the  franchise  should  be  used  by  free  and 
honorable  men, —  all  these  are  papers  and  trea- 
tises which,  though  in  the  antiquated  language  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  might  still  be  read  with 
great  profit,  particularly  in  the  none  too  saintly 
circles  of  modern  politics.  There  are  no  two 
documents  in  all  English  poHtical  literature  fuller 
of  political  wisdom  than  "The  Great  Case  of 
Liberty  of  Conscience  "  and  "  England's  Present 
Interest  Considered." 

Penn  is  usually  supposed  to  have  been  a  man 
of  placid  disposition,  submitting  passively  to  in- 
justice, and  never  using  vigorous  and  pungent 
speech  in  defence  of  justice  and  liberty.     He  was 


144  WILLIAM  PENN 

nothing  of  the  sort.  He  refused  from  principle 
to  use  any  physical  violence,  and  was  as  abso- 
lutely master  of  his  spirit  as  any  man  who  ever 
trod  upon  English  soil.  But  "  in  deeds  of  dar- 
ing rectitude  "  he  was  unsurpassed.  His  discard- 
ing of  the  weapons  of  brute  force  made  him  all 
the  more  bold  and  aggressive  in  the  use  of  those 
of  moral  cast,  as  was  the  case  with  our  leading 
anti-slavery  reformers.  None  ever  wielded  the 
weapons  of  truth  in  defensive  speech  and  in 
protest  against  wrong,  where  occasion  demanded, 
with  more  naked  directness  and  unsparing  keen- 
ness than  he.  He  knew  not  the  meaning  of 
fear.  He  was  swift  in  offence  wherever  a  strong- 
hold of  injustice  towered  before  him. 

In  the  trial  at  the  Old  Bailey,  when  the  court 
was  browbeating  the  jury,  he  exclaimed  in  manly 
indignation :  "  It  is  intolerable  that  my  jury 
should  be  thus  menaced.  Is  this  according  to 
the  fundamental  law  ?  Are  not  they  my  proper 
judges  by  the  Great  Charter  of  England  ?  What 
hope  is  there  of  ever  having  justice  done,  when 
juries  are  threatened  and  their  verdict  rejected?  " 
When  the  recorder  maliciously  ordered  him 
taken  away,  declaring  that  for  such  men  as  he 
something  like  the  Spanish  Inquisition  ought  to 
be  established  in  England,  Penn  replied :  "  I 
can  never  urge  the  fundamental  laws  of  England 


WILLIAM  PENN 


Hi 


but  you  cry,  '  Take  him  away,  take  him  away/ 
But  'tis  no  wonder,  since  the  Spanish  Inquisition 
hath  so  great  a  place  in  the  recorder's  heart. 
God  Almighty,  who  is  just,  will  judge  you  for  all 
these  things."  Chided  by  Cavaliers  for  abandon- 
ing the  society  of  gentlemen  and  associating  with 
the  despised  Quakers,  who  were  from  among  the 
common  people,  Penn's  moral  sense  flashed  back 
the  retort :  "  I  confess  I  have  made  it  my  choice 
to  rehnquish  the  company  of  those  who  are  in- 
geniously wicked,  to  converse  with  those  who 
are  more  honestly  simple."  In  a  letter  to  the 
vice-chancellor  of  Oxford  University,  by  whom 
students  inclined  to  Quakerism  were  treated  with 
great  contempt  and  severity,  he  wrote :  "  Shall 
the  multiplied  oppressions  which  thou  continuest 
to  heap  upon  innocent  English  people  for  their 
peaceable  religious  meetings  pass  unregarded  by 
the  eternal  God?  Dost  thou  think  to  escape 
his  fierce  wrath  and  dreadful  vengeance  for  thy 
ungodly  and  illegal  persecution  of  his  poor  chil- 
dren? I  tell  thee,  no.  Better  were  it  for  thee 
thou  hadst  never  been  born.  Poor  mushroom, 
wilt  thou  war  against  the  Lord,  and  lift  up  thy- 
self in  battle  against  the  Almighty?"  In  the 
"  Great  Case  of  Liberty  of  Conscience,"  written 
while  he  was  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower  as  a  political 
suspect,  he  declares  that  in  trying  to  secure  uni- 


146  WILLIAM  PENN 

formity  in  religious  belief  "  the  way  of  force 
makes  instead  of  an  honest  dissenter,  but  an 
hypocritical  conformist,  than  whom  nothing  is 
more  detestable  to  God  and  man.'*  In  "Eng- 
land's Present  Interest  Considered,"  a  tractate 
inspired  by  the  purest  and  loftiest  patriotism, 
he  utters  a  protest  of  rare  power  against  the 
abuses  and  cruelties  practised  throughout  the 
nation  in  the  effort  to  bring  about  religious  con- 
formity, and  pleads  for  toleration  as  the  surest 
means  of  putting  an  end  to  the  prevailing  con- 
fusion and  disorder.  "  Your  endeavors  for  uni- 
formity," he  says,  "  have  been  many :  your  acts, 
not  a  few  to  enforce  it.  But  the  consequence, 
whether  you  intended  it  or  no,  through  the  bar- 
barous practices  of  those  who  have  had  their 
execution,  hath  been  the  spoiling  of  several 
thousands  of  the  free-born  people  of  this  king- 
dom of  their  unforfeited  rights.  Persons  have 
been  flung  into  gaol,  gates  and  trunks  broken 
open,  goods  distrained,  till  a  stool  hath  not  been 
left  to  sit  down  on  ;  flocks  of  cattle  driven  oflF, 
whole  barns  full  of  corn  seized,  threshed,  and 
carried  away ;  parents  left  without  their  children, 
children  without  their  parents,  both  without  sub- 
sistence. But  that  which  aggravates  the  cruelty 
is  the  widow's  mite  hath  not  escaped  their 
hands :    they    have   made  her  '  cow    the    forfeit- 


WILLIAM  PENN 


147 


ure  of  her  conscience,'  not  leaving  her  a  bed  to 
lie  on  nor  a  blanket  to  cover  her.  And,  which 
is  yet  more  barbarous,  and  helps  to  make  up 
this  tragedy,  the  poor  helpless  orphan's  milk, 
boiling  over  the  fire,  has  been  flung  to  the  dogs, 
and  the  skillet  made  part  of  their  prize." 

The  severest  ordeal  through  which  Penn  had 
to  pass  in  his  work  for  religious  liberty  was  that 
which  befell  him  in  his  advocacy  of  toleration  for 
Catholics  as  well  as  Protestants.  The  torture 
of  soul  which  he  experienced  in  this  conflict, 
wherein  for  twenty  years  he  was  misrepresented 
and  maligned  as  a  scheming  Catholic,  a  Jesuit, 
a  hireling  of  the  pope,  was  tenfold  greater  than 
any  suffering  which  vile  imprisonment  or  bodily 
abuse  caused  him.  In  these  latter  he  gloried, 
in  a  high,  triumphant  spirit.  He  gave  hard 
blows,  and  he  knew  how  to  take  them.  But  to 
be  treated  as  a  consummate  liar,  an  arch  deceiver, 
a  snake  in  the  grass,  cut  his  fine,  sensitive,  honor- 
able soul  to  the  very  quick,  and  sometimes 
wrung  from  him  expressions  of  a  grief  too  keen 
and  overmastering  to  be  concealed.  But  he 
never  flinched  from  the  trying  duty  until  he 
had  done  his  work.  Pleading  before  a  com- 
mittee of  Parliament  his  case  and  that  of  his 
co-religionists  under  persecution  as  Papists,  he 
said :    "  That    which    giveth    me    a    more    than 


148  WILLIAM  PENN 

ordinary  right  to  speak  at  this  time  and  in  this 
place  is  the  great  abuse  that  I  have  received 
above  any  other  of  my  profession ;  for  of  a  long 
time  I  have  not  only  been  supposed  a  Papist, 
but  a  Seminary,  a  Jesuit,  an  Emissary  of 
Rome.  .  .  .  What  with  one  thing  and  what 
with  another,  we  have  been  as  the  common 
wool-sacks  and  common  whipping-stock  of  the 
kingdom.  All  laws  have  been  let  loose  upon 
us,  as  if  the  design  were  not  to  reform,  but  to 
destroy  us,  and  that  not  for  what  we  are,  but 
for  what  we  are  not.  It  is  hard  that  we  must 
thus  bear  the  stripes  of  another  interest  and  be 
their  proxy  in  punishment.  ...  I  would  not  be 
mistaken.  I  am  far  from  thinking  it  fit  that 
Papists  should  be  whipt  for  their  consciences, 
because  I  exclaim  against  the  injustice  of  whip- 
ping Quakers  for  Papists.  No  ;  for,  though  the 
hand  pretended  to  be  lifted  against  them  hath, 
I  know  not  by  what  discretion,  lit  heavy  upon 
us,  and  we  complain,  yet  we  do  not  mean  that 
any  should  take  a  fresh  aim  at  them,  for  we 
must  give  the  liberty  we  ask,  and  cannot  be 
false  to  our  principles,  though  it  were  to  relieve 
ourselves ;  for  we  have  goodwill  to  all  men,  and 
would  have  none  suffer  for  a  truly  sober  and 
conscientious  dissent  on  any  hand." 

More  pathetic    and,  if  possible,    more    noble 


WILLIAM  PENN  149 

still  IS  his  language  in  reply  to  an  urgent  request 
from  a  particular  friend  to  vindicate  himself  in  a 
public  statement  against  the  calumnies  which  fell 
upon  him  from  all  sides  on  account  of  his  fre- 
quent visits  to  James  II.  in  behalf  of  universal 
toleration.  I  quote  a  few  sentences  from  this  re- 
markable but  little  known  letter :  — 

"  I  am  not  only  no  Jesuit,  but  no  Papist. 
And,  which  is  more,  I  never  had  any  temptation 
upon  me  to  be  it,  either  from  doubts  in  my  own 
mind  about  the  way  I  profess,  or  from  the  dis- 
courses or  writings  of  any  of  that  religion.  And, 
in  the  presence  of  Almighty  God,  I  do  declare  that 
the  King  did  never  once,  directly  or  indirectly,  at- 
tack me  or  tempt  me  upon  that  subject,  the  many 
years  that  I  have  had  the  advantage  of  free  access 
to  him,  so  unjust  as  well  as  sordidly  false  are  all 
those  stories  of  the  town.  ...  I  have  almost  con- 
tinually had  one  business  or  other  there  for  our 
Friends,  whom  I  have  served  with  a  steady  so- 
licitation, through  all  times,  since  I  was  of  their 
communion.  I  had  also  a  great  many  personal 
good  offices  to  do,  upon  a  principle  of  charity, 
for  people  of  all  persuasions,  thinking  it  a  duty 
to  improve  the  little  interest  I  had  for  the  good 
of  those  that  needed  it,  especially  the  poor.  .  .  . 
I  am  not  without  apprehensions  of  the  cause  of 
this  behavior  towards  me,  I  mean  my  constant 


ijo  WILLIAM   PENN 

zeal  for  an  impartial  liberty  of  conscience.  But  if 
that  be  it,  the  cause  is  too  good  to  be  in  pain 
about.  I  ever  understood  that  to  be  the  natural 
right  of  all  men,  and  that  he  that  had  a  religion 
without  it,  that  religion  was  none  of  his.  For 
what  is  not  the  religion  of  a  man's  choice  is  the 
religion  of  him  that  imposes  it.  So  that  liberty 
of  conscience  is  the  first  step  to  have  a  relig- 
ion. ...  If,  therefore,  an  universal  charity,  if  the 
asserting  an  impartial  liberty  of  conscience,  if 
doing  to  others  as  one  would  be  done  by,  and  an 
open  avowing  and  steady  practising  of  these  things 
in  all  times  to  all  parties,  will  justly  lay  a  man 
under  the  reflection  of  being  a  Jesuit  or  a  Papist 
of  any  rank,  I  must  not  only  submit  to  the  char- 
acter, but  embrace  it,  too ;  and  I  care  not  who 
knows  that  I  can  wear  it  with  more  pleasure  than 
it  is  possible  for  them  with  any  justice  to  give  it 
to  me.  For  these  are  corner-stones  and  princi- 
ples with  me ;  and  I  am  scandalized  at  all  build- 
ings that  have  them  not  for  their  foundations. 
For  religion  itself  is  an  empty  name  without 
them,  a  whited  wall,  a  painted  sepulchre,  no  life 
or  virtue  to  the  soul,  no  good  or  example  to  one's 
neighbor.  Let  us  not  flatter  ourselves.  We  can 
never  be  the  better  for  our  religion,  if  our  neigh- 
bor be  the  worse  for  it.  '  He  that  suffers  his  dif- 
ference with  his  neighbor  about  the  other  world  to 


WILLIAM  PENN  151 

carry  him  beyond  the  line  of  moderation  in  this, 
is  the  worse  for  his  opinion,  though  it  be  true.' " 
This  noble  vindication,  unsurpassed  by  any- 
thing in  the  language,  ought  to  have  silenced  the 
tongue  of  calumny  forever;  but  it  did  not.  He 
was  still  hounded  by  enemies  and  arrested  and 
brought  to  trial  no  less  than  three  times  after- 
ward, until  he  was  finally  cleared  of  all  blame  by 
King  William  himself  and  by  the  King's  Bench 
at  Westminster. 

This  work  of  Penn  in  England  for  liberty  of 
conscience,  for  universal  religious  toleration,  and 
the  equal  and  impartial  rights  of  all  before  the 
common  law,  has  been  less  heralded  and  less  ap- 
preciated than  his  experiment  in  the  New  World. 
It  ought  not  to  have  been  so.  The  two  were 
only  different  parts  of  the  same  service  to  the 
cause  of  liberty.  What  he  did  in  England  pro- 
duced the  training  and  laid  the  foundations  for 
the  American  experiment,  and  was  by  all  odds 
the  more  difficult  and  trying.  What  he  did  on 
the  banks  of  the  Delaware  was  simply  to  test  in 
practice,  with  a  comparatively  free  hand,  the 
soundness  and  practicability  of  the  doctrines 
whose  advocacy  had  cost  him  so  many  years  of 
thankless  labor,  social  ostracism  and  relentless 
persecution     on    his    native    soil.     It    took,  of 


152  WILLIAM  PENN 

course,  a  political  genius  of  the  highest  order  to 
conceive  and  execute  the  American  scheme.  But 
it  required,  in  addition  to  genius,  a  sustained 
moral  heroism,  unsurpassed  in  the  annals  of  re- 
form, to  maintain  for  so  many  years  the  hard 
conflict  by  which  he  wrested  from  the  English 
courts  and  government  the  recognition,  for  him- 
self and  for  multitudes  of  others,  of  the  simple 
rights  of  citizenship  and  of  religion,- —  a  victory 
whose  benefits  went  to  all  English-speaking 
peoples. 

It  would  be  gratuitous  to  rehearse  before  a 
cultivated  American  audience  the  story  of  the 
founding  and  development  of  the  colony  of 
Pennsylvania,  and  of  its  extraordinary  success, 
without  soldier  or  armed  policeman,  for  two 
whole  generations  of  men.  Nothing  in  the 
annals  of  the  country  is  better  known  than  this 
singular  romance  of  our  political  history,  more 
marvellous  in  its  simple  reality  than  any  ideal 
republic  of  philosophy  or  any  Utopia  of  political 
dreaming. 

Leaving  aside,  as  not  relevant  to  the  purpose 
of  this  address,  the  phase  of  the  experiment 
which  has  been  most  dwelt  upon,  that  of  the 
entire  disuse  of  deadly  weapons,  it  is  difficult  to 
say  which  of  the  other  parts  of  it  —  the  policy 
of  justice  and  brotherhood   toward    the  Indians, 


WILLIAM  PENN  153 

that  of  universal  religious  toleration,  and  that  of 
equality  of  rights  in  the  government  —  was  the 
most  successful  and  the  most  influential  in  its 
ultimate  effects  on  the  nation  after  the  colonial 
period  was  over. 

The  Indian  policy,  which  was  incomparably 
successful  during  the  seventy  years  that  it  was 
continued,  was  finally  abandoned  by  the  colony, 
along  with  that  of  the  disuse  of  arms.  But  it 
remained  as  an  appealing  ideal  to  the  nation 
during  more  than  "  a  century  of  dishonor,"  with 
its  frightful  Indian  wars  and  enormous  cost  to 
the  country.  At  last  the  government,  weary  of 
the  bitter  and  costly  fruits  of  the  method  of 
oppression  and  slaughter,  found  itself  practically 
compelled,  by  considerations  of  self-interest  and 
economy  as  well  as  of  right,  to  adopt  toward  the 
Indians  who  remained  what  was  substantially  the 
policy  of  Penn.  The  results  have  again  justified 
the  method.  Since  the  adoption  of  the  peace 
policy  under  President  Grant,  Indian  wars  have 
ceased.  The  Indians  are  rapidly  becoming  civil- 
ized, and  are  being  absorbed  into  the  general 
population  and  life  of  the  nation.  Through  it 
all  Penn's  influence  has  been  beyond  calculation, 
and  it  will  continue  to  be  mighty  until  the  last 
Indian  remaining  becomes  a  citizen  and  enjoys  all 
the  rights  and  liberties  of  his  white  brother. 


154 


WILLIAM  PENN 


The  policy  of  universal  religious  toleration  — 
a  better  word  than  toleration  ought  to  be 
used  to  describe  it  —  that  was  adopted  by  the 
founder  of  Pennsylvania  was  immensely  success- 
ful. Though  tried  for  the  first  time  in  its  full 
scope, —  the  experiment  of  Roger  Williams  hav- 
ing been  not  only  much  more  limited,  but  much 
marred  and  broken  by  interference  from  abroad, — 
it  worked  just  as  Penn  had  often  declared  in  Eng- 
land that  it  would  work.  People  of  every 
nation,  tongue  and  creed  of  Western  Europe 
nocked  to  the  banks  of  the  Delaware.  They 
lived  in  mutual  respect  and  harmony,  and  the 
colony  grew  and  prospered  beyond  all  the  others. 
The  effect  of  this  bold,  thorough-going,  and 
measurably  unhampered  experiment  in  freedom 
of  conscience  and  of  religious  polity  was  deep 
and  wide-spread  among  all  the  colonial  settle- 
ments. The  policy  finally  worked  its  way, 
strengthened  of  course  from  many  other  sources, 
into  the  larger  life  of  the  nation,  and  became  part 
and  parcel  of  the  controlling  spirit  of  the  Amer- 
ican people,  as  we  know  it  to-day. 

Before  leaving  England,  Penn  drew  up  "  The 
Fundamental  Constitutions  of  Pennsylvania,"  and 
also  a  "frame  of  government,"  as  he  styled  it,  for 
the  ordering  of  the  new  colony,  in  which  it  was 
decreed  that  "  the  people  themselves  were  to  be 


WILLIAM  PENN  155 

the  authors  of  their  own  laws  in  a  properly  con- 
stituted assembly.'*  Scarcely  had  he  set  foot 
upon  the  new  soil  when  he  put  the  frame  of 
government  into  operation,  calling  a  general  as- 
sembly of  the  farmers  and  cave-dwellers  on  the 
lower  reaches  of  the  Delaware  Bay.  In  this 
curious  assembly  of  "plain  people" — very  plain 
people  we  should  think  them  —  the  constitution 
was  adopted  and  suitable  laws  passed.  For  se- 
rene audacity  and  unlimited  faith  in  the  under- 
taking there  is  nothing  of  its  kind  like  this  in 
history.  Untamed  regions,  wild  Indians,  motley 
groups  of  settlers,  only  loosely  related,  traducers 
at  home,  all  counted  for  nothing  as  obstacles. 
The  thing  was  of  God,  and  it  must  go.  And  go 
it  did,  because  it  was  of  God.  The  constitution 
worked,  worked  admirably,  as  any  good  thing 
will  work  when  in  good  hands ;  and  Penn  had 
successfully  planted  what  he  had  already  prophe- 
sied in  England  God  would  make  the  "  seed  of  a 
nation.'* 

This  frame  of  government,  though  revised  and 
altered  in  its  details,  remained  essentially  un- 
changed in  its  principles  from  the  time  when  its 
author  landed  in  1682  until  the  Revolution  of 
1776,  nearly  a  hundred  years.  When  the  thir- 
teen colonies  after  the  war  consolidated  them- 
selves into  a  nation,  and  undertook  the  difficult 


156  WILLIAM  PENN 

task  of  creating  for  themselves  a  constitution, 
their  representatives  assembling  for  the  purpose 
on  the  very  ground  where  Penn  had  tried  his 
"  holy  experiment,"  this  "  frame  of  government,*' 
drawn  on  the  other  side  of  the  water,  furnished, 
more  than  any  other  document  unless  it  be 
Hooker's  Constitution  of  Connecticut,  the  funda- 
mental principles  for  the  construction  of  the  new 
instrument.  It  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say  that, 
when  the  natural  history  of  the  American  Consti- 
tution is  fully  written,  it  will  be  found  to  have 
been  born,  not  in  the  brain  of  Madison,  Ham- 
ilton, or  Franklin,  or  of  any  other  of  the  distin- 
guished statesmen  who  sat  in  the  Constitutional 
Convention  of  1787  and  worked  out  with  so 
much  wisdom  the  details  of  our  great  national 
charter,  but  in  the  brain  of  this  man  of  God,  who 
in  obedience  to  the  heavenly  visions  that  came  to 
him  dared  to  break  with  all  the  customs  and 
precedents  of  his  time,  and  to  go  as  far  as  his 
English  citizenship  and  dependence  on  the  crown 
would  permit  him  to  go  in  creating  a  government 
of  the  people  by  and  for  themselves. 

The  statue  of  William  Penn  above  the  city 
hall  in  Philadelphia  yonder,  which  one  can  easily 
imagine  to  blush  with  shame  as  certain  politicians 
of  the  place  pass  beneath  it,  is  higher  from  the 
ground  than  any  other  in  the  world.     It  is  fitting 


WILLIAM  PENN  157 

that  it  should  be  so.  Most  men  are  soon  left 
behind  by  the  march  of  progress,  and  their  ideals 
are  outgrown  when  their  age  has  passed  away. 
Not  so  with  Penn.  The  civilized  world,  even 
our  own  America,  has  not  yet  come  up  with  him. 
He  had  his  weaknesses  and  his  imperfections, 
especially  in  his  judgments  of  men  ;  but  they  were 
like  the  spots  on  the  sun, —  they  sprang  from  the 
same  virtues  and  energies  which  made  him  great 
and  powerful.  His  central  ideals  were  as  eternal 
as  those  of  the  Master,  after  whom  he  framed, 
his  life  and  policies,  and  can  never  be  outgrown. 
He  is  still  the  statesman  of  the  future ;  and  there 
is  no  voice  out  of  our  country's  great  past  to 
which  the  present,  with  its  aspirations,  its  hopes, 
its  ambitions,  its  wanderings,  its  lapses  from  the 
high  ideals  which  it  had  set  for  itself,  might  give 
heed  with  greater  profit  than  to  his. 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON   AND    THE 

INFLUENCE  OF  DEMOCRACY 

UPON  RELIGION. 

In  1743  a  third  child  was  born  to  Peter  and 
Jane  Jefferson.  They  called  him  Thomas,  not, 
I  suppose,  with  any  prophetic  knowledge  that  he 
was  to  be  the  sceptic  among  the  colonists ;  but, 
certainly,  no  man  more  completely  than  Thomas 
Jefferson  declared  by  every  attitude  of  his  life 
and  every  utterance  of  his  lips  that,  unless  he 
should  see  the  print  of  the  nails,  he  would  not 
beli-eve.  The  shot  that  was  fired  at  Concord 
echoed  in  this  young  man's  mind  when,  at  thirty- 
two,  he  stood  in  the  Continental  Congress,  and 
was  selected,  together  with  Franklin  and  Adams 
and  Jay,  to  frame  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence. That  declaration  was  based  upon  his  con- 
viction that  the  colonies  owed  no  allegiance  to  the 
British  Parliament ;  that  to  claim  such  allegiance 
was  to  exact  by  one  legislature,  independent  and 
free,  obedience  by  another  legislature,  as  free  and 
independent  as  itself 

It  is  not  proposed  to  make  the  address  of  this 
afternoon  a  biographical  survey  nor  a  political 
plea.     The  biography  of  Jefferson  is  the  record 


i6a  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

of  the  emotions  of  a  human  soul.  It  may  be 
enough  to  say  of  his  boyhood  that  at  fourteen  his 
father  died  ;  and  he  found  himself  well  endowed, 
well  placed,  and  well  connected.  Neither  Jeffer- 
son nor  Madison  nor  Washington  was  technically 
a  gentleman ;  but  each  was  so  near  the  margin  of 
that  coveted  title  in  Virginia  that  he  had  only 
to  step  into  matrimony  to  win  the  title  for  him- 
self, or  to  step  upon  the  public  arena  of 
achievement  to  vindicate  the  title  as  already 
his. 

Peter  Jefferson  married  Jane  Randolph,  and 
the  Randolphs  were  better  off  than  the  Jeffersons 
in  point  of  estate ;  and  the  one  thousand  acres 
which  Peter  Jefferson  acquired  upon  his  betrothal, 
as  being  a  fit  domain  to  bring  to  his  marriage,  was 
augmented  by  the  sale  of  a  place  for  his  house 
from  the  Randolph  side  of  the  account,  for  which 
there  was  given,  it  is  said,  the  largest  bowl  of 
arrack  punch. 

In  the  College  of  William  and  Mary,  Thomas 
Jefferson  found  his  education,  studying  fabulously 
long  hours, —  one  might  almost  say,  mythically 
long  hours.  And  yet  it  is  recorded  of  him  that 
he  gained  a  thorough  knowledge  of  Latin  and 
Greek  and  French  and  Spanish  and  Itahan,  and 
purposed  to  study  German,  if  he  might  procure 
the  books.     Certain  it  is  that,  when  at  thirty-two 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  163 

upon  his  entry  into  the  Continental  Congress, 
the  sage  fathers  of  your  own  New  England 
and  the  commercial  spirits  of  New  York  and 
Pennsylvania  looked  up  in  wonder  to  see  so 
young  a  man  who  knew  so  many  things,  and, 
besides,  could  survey  an  estate,  could  play  the 
violin,  could  lead  in  a  minuet,  could  argue  a  case 
at  law,  and  could  use  the  English  tongue  in  away 
to  make  them  all  his  debtors.  He  had  entered 
the  House  of  Burgesses  at  the  age  of  twenty-six, 
taking  the  training  there  which  prepared  him  for 
his  later  work  in  the  Continental  Congress,  in 
the  office  of  Secretary  of  State,  as  minister  to 
France,  and  for  serving  two  terms  as  President  of 
the  United  States.  He  reckoned  his  whole  life 
practically  as  a  life  of  public  service.  He  claimed 
for  it  sixty-one  years  of  public  service.  He  was 
in  office  perhaps  some  thirty-nine  years ;  but 
there  was  no  time  at  which  he  was  not  a  pubHc 
servant,  and  so  justly  reckoned  sixty-one  of  his 
eighty-three  years  to  the  public  good.  His  activi- 
ties were  in  a  Virginia  so  charming  that  Channing 
said  in  1799  that,  if  he  "could  separate  the  Vir- 
ginians from  their  sensuality  and  slaves,  he  would 
be  able  to  think  of  them  as  the  finest  people  in 
the  world."  He  elevates  them  above  his  own 
New  England  in  the  fact  that  they  are  "  more 
hospitable,  less  reticent,  and  do  not  love  money 


i64  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

so  much."  However  this  may  be,  as  an  impres- 
sion upon  the  mind  of  Channing,  who  was  private 
tutor  in  a  family  of  Virginia  in  1799  ^^^  1800, 
it  is  quite  certain  that  Virginia  was  a  very  charm- 
ing place  in  which  to  live.  No  class  distinctions 
were  there,  based  simply  upon  family  lines.  They 
were  open-hearted,  hospitable  to  all  comers.  All 
who  could  vindicate  their  right  to  be  received 
were  received  upon  their  own  account  of  them- 
selves, and  maintained  their  position  by  the  con- 
tinuance of  that  account.  Yet  there  was  in 
Virginia  one  thing  that  immediately  aroused  the 
indignation  of  Thomas  Jefferson  when  he  came 
into  public  life,  which  was  in  opposition  to  all 
democractic  principles,  as  he  conceived  them, 
namely,  the  State  Church.  It  was  not  believed 
by  him,  any  more  than  it  was  believed  by  Roger 
Williams,  that  the  State  or  the  Church  could 
dominate  the  human  soul.  Certainly,  neither  by 
Jefferson  nor  by  Roger  Williams  was  it  believed 
that  the  Church  and  the  State  could  be  united  in 
any  such  survey  of  the  rights  of  man.  In  the 
contest  that  Jefferson  soon  led  in  the  House  of 
Burgesses  for  the  disestablishment  of  the  State 
Church,  a  different  view  was  held  by  one  of  the 
elderly  members  in  powdered  wig  and  three- 
cornered  hat  and  silver-topped  cane.  "  No 
gentleman,"  said  he,  "  would  choose  any  road  to 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  165 

heaven  but  the  Episcopal."  But  there  was  a 
serious  difficulty  about  the  State  Church  in  Vir- 
ginia. It  had  no  bishop,  nor  could  procure  any. 
The  rectors,  vicars,  and  curates  earnestly  exhorted 
the  people  to  bring  their  children  to  the  bishop, 
but  he  was  in  London.  The  clergy  were  con- 
fronted by  the  serious  people  of  Virginia,  as  the 
deputation  confronted  the  lords  of  England,  with 
the  charge  of  the  abuse  of  their  privileges  and 
disregard  of  their  duty.  It  was  said,  with  some 
humor,  by  one  of  the  number  of  those  who 
entered  into  this  contest,  that  the  clergyman  "  had 
a  nominal  interest  in  their  souls  and  an  actual 
tithe  of  their  estates."  The  struggle  for  a  bishop 
was  settled  by  the  Connecticut  Episcopalians  in 
the  election  of  Dr.  Seabury  to  that  office.  But, 
when  the  application  from  the  United  States  to 
London  for  a  bishop  came  before  the  lords  ecclesi- 
astical in  England,  it  was  found  at  last  that  Vir- 
ginia did  not  join  in  the  petition;  and  a  vote  of 
the  House  of  Burgesses  recorded  the  gratitude 
of  their  rulers  that  the  Virginia  Episcopalians  had 
abstained  from  the  petition  for  a  bishop. 

These  things  are  mentioned,  in  order  that  you 
may  see  the  rise  of  the  sense  of  independence 
of  all  ecclesiastical  authority.  The  first  American 
Conference  of  Methodists  came  about  this  time, 
held  in  Philadelphia  in  1773.     The  first  General 


i66  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

Conference  of  the  Methodist  Church,  a  significant 
growth  of  this  time,  was  in  1784.  Coke  comes 
from  England,  sent  by  Wesley,  consecrated  by 
Wesley  and  his  associates  ;  and  Asbury  is  ordained 
bishop.  The  reorganization  of  the  Catholic 
Church  falls  to  this  period  in  Maryland,  in  a 
colony,  now  a  State,  in  which  the  Catholic  Church 
had  been  the  pioneer  of  religious  liberty,  as  it 
understood  religious  liberty.  1789  is  a  great  year 
in  America  as  to  religion  and  as  to  the  democracy 
which  lay  at  its  root.  The  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church  Convention  was  in  Philadelphia  in  that 
year.  The  meeting  of  the  Methodist  Council,  to 
deliberate  upon  unity  of  doctrine  and  of  form, 
was  held  in  the  same  year.  In  that  year,  1789, 
Baltimore  was  created,  by  special  bull  of  Pius  VI., 
a  see  of  the  Cathohc  Church,  and  is  still  its 
primacy.  The  First  General  Assembly  of  Presby- 
terians met  in  Philadelphia  in  1789.  They  had 
already  given  Witherspoon  to  the  Continental 
Congress.  And  yet,  when  the  Baptist  Church 
and  all  others  refrained  from  the  plea  for  the 
assessment  of  all  persons  according  to  their  means 
for  the  maintenance  of  religion,  these  same  Presby- 
terians were  found  joining  with  the  Episcopalians 
in  such  a  request. 

We  come  now  to  the  first  significant  declaration 
of  Thomas  Jefferson  with  respect  to   the  rights 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  167 

of  the  soul  and  of  the  mind  in  rehgion.  It  is 
called  his  Declaratory  Act.  It  was  written  by 
Jefferson,  singularly  enough,  in  that  time  of 
political  liberation,  1776,  but  was  not  introduced 
by  him  into  the  Assembly  of  Virginia  until  1779, 
and  was  not  passed  by  them  until  1785.  Said 
Jefferson  in  this  Declaratory  Act,  "  Be  it  enacted 
by  the  General  Assembly  that  no  man  shall  be 
compelled  to  frequent  or  support  any  religious 
worship,  place,  or  ministry  whatever;  nor  shall 
be  enforced,  restrained,  molested,  or  burdened  in 
his  body  or  goods,  nor  shall  otherwise  suffer  on 
account  of  his  religious  opinions  or  belief;  but 
that  all  men  shall  be  free  to  profess,  and  by  argu- 
ment to  maintain,  their  opinions  in  matters  of 
religion,  and  that  the  same  shall  in  no  wise 
diminish  or  affect  their  civil  capacity."  This  is 
exactly  in  accord  with  the  view  which  Thomas 
Paine  had  announced ;  and,  doubtless,  he  had 
conferred  with  Jefferson  as  to  its  announcement, 
to  the  effect  that  "  toleration  is  not  the  opposite 
of  intolerance,  but  its  counterfeit.  Both  are  des- 
potisms. The  one  assumes  to  itself  the  right  of 
withholding  liberty  of  conscience,  and  the  other 
of  granting  it."  And  those  of  us  who  know  what 
word  has  taken  the  place  of  tolerance  must 
applaud  this  protest  so  early  against  so  inconven- 
ient and  despicable  a  word.     For  now  no  man 


i68  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

uses  the  word,  but,  rather,  spiritual  sympathy, —  the 
effort  of  one  man  to  see  what  another  man  sees, 
and  to  compare  the  views  together.  The  con- 
viction has  grown  in  our  day  that  it  is  a  small 
ledge  of  observation  that  is  not  large  enough  for 
two  to  stand  on  while  they  get  the  view. 

Another  significant  matter  in  which  Jefferson 
had  a  hand  was  the  section  of  the  Bill  of  Rights 
drawn  by  Patrick  Henry.  The  Bill  of  Rights 
itself  was  by  George  Mason,  as  a  whole ;  but 
Patrick  Henry  drew  the  section  that  had  to  do 
with  the  subject  in  hand.  "  Religion,"  said  he, 
"  is  the  duty  we  owe  our  Creator  ;  and  the  manner 
of  discharging  it  can  be  determined  only  by  reason 
or  conviction,  and  not  by  force  or  violence ;  and, 
therefore,  all  men  should  enjoy  the  fullest  tolera- 
tion in  the  exercise  of  religion,  according  to  the 
dictates  of  conscience,  unpunished  and  unre- 
strained by  the  magistrate,  unless,  under  the 
color  of  religion,  any  man  disturb  the  peace,  the 
happiness,  or  safety  of  society;  and  that  it  is  the 
mutual  duty  of  all  to  practise  Christian  forbear- 
ance, love,  and  charity  towards  each  other." 
Both  Jefferson  and  Madison  protested  against 
the  form  of  this  statement ;  and  it  was  modified, 
so  that  the  words  "  toleration  "  and  "  magistrates  " 
were  both  eliminated  from  it.  The  objectionable 
clause  was    stricken    out,    and    this    substituted : 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  169 

*'A11  men  are  equally  entitled  to  full  and  free 
exercise  of  religion,  according  to  the  dictates  of 
conscience."  But  Madison  went  further.  "  No 
man,  or  class  of  men,"  said  he,  "  ought  to  gain 
emoluments  by  the  fact  of  their  religious  relation- 
ship." 

These  are  some  of  the  signs  of  the  times  that 
were  manifest  in  the  period  of  Jefferson's  most 
active  history. 

I  pass  now  to  consider  the  association  of  Jeffer- 
son's name  with  the  term  "  Democracy."  It  must 
be  remembered  that  Democracy,  as  Jefferson  con- 
ceived it,  was  Republicanism.  The  first  term 
used  by  him  was  not  "  Democrat,"  but  "  Republi- 
can." Then,  in  order  that  he  might  clear  the 
atmosphere  and  be  understood,  he  used  the 
awkward  phrase  "  Republican-Democrat."  And, 
finally,  by  that  laziness  of  mind  which  is  so  com- 
mon, all  other  terms  were  dismissed,  and  his  party 
came  to  be  known  as  the  Democrats.  This 
term  is  used  in  this  connection  in  its  philosophic, 
not  its  political,  sense.  Jefferson's  shade  is  so 
often  invoked  to  be  present  at  the  banquets  of 
those  who  call  themselves  "  Democrats  that  it  is 
well  just  here  to  say  that  his  democracy  was  of  an 
older  type,  and  had  to  do  with  the  rights  of 
society  and  the  freedom  of  the  human  mind,  not 
with  the  spoils  of  society  and  the  enslavement  of 


lyo  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

party  prejudice.  The  association  of  Jefferson's 
name  with  democracy  was  the  result,  first,  of  his 
mania  against  monarchy  ;  for  by  no  lighter  term 
can  the  attitude  of  his  mind  be  expressed.  The 
slightest  suspicion  in  John  Adams,  for  instance, 
of  clinging  to  family  distinction  or  to  ancient 
tradition,  or  to  anything  that  smacked  of  English 
regard,  aroused  his  wrath,  until  he  charged  John 
Adams  himself  with  apostasy. 

The  second  source  of  his  enthusiasm  for 
democracy  was  in  his  antagonism  to  Hamilton. 
It  is  safe  to  say  that  neither  Hamilton  under- 
stood Jefferson,  nor  Jefferson  Hamilton.  Ham- 
ilton believed  that  Jefferson  was  an  honest  man, 
both  personally  and  politically.  Jefferson  be- 
lieved that  Hamilton  was  an  honest  man  person- 
ally, but  politically  ever  ready  to  resort  to  force 
or  to  trickery  to  gain  some  end.  The  centraliza- 
tion which  Hamilton  taught  was  exactly  antago- 
nistic to  the  States'  Rights,  which  was  fundamental 
to  Jefferson's  political  creed ;  for  Jefferson  was 
author,  not  only  of  that  form  of  statement  with 
regard  to  States'  Rights  in  Virginia,  but  author, 
also,  in  part,  of  the  Kentucky  Resolutions.  His 
aversion  to  monarchy  amounted,  as  I  say,  to  a 
mania,  but  was  associated  in  his  mind  with  a 
passion  for  liberty.  It  might  have  been  said  of 
him,  as    Matthew   Arnold  says  of  Shelley,   with 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  171 

the  change  of  a  word  or  two,  that  "  That  radiant 
and  ineffectual  angel  beat  his  luminous  wings  in 
the  void  in  vain."  For,  with  Jefferson,  every 
stroke  of  the  wing  was  a  hfting  of  the  whole 
political  body  ;  and  the  luminous  character  of  his 
utterance  gave  radiant  form  to  the  impulses  of 
other  men.  While  Hamilton,  at  a  dinner  in 
New  York,  smote  the  table  with  his  hand  at  the 
mention  of"  the  people,"  and  said,  "  Your  people 
is  a  great  beast,"  Jefferson  held  firmly  to  the  in- 
herent rightness  of  the  popular  decree,  and  yet 
was  at  heart  a  dictator.  It  is  the  old  story  of  the 
man  who  thinks  he  knows  being  wilhng  to  guide 
the  people  who  ought  to  know. 

In  contrast  to  this  democratic  spirit  which  now 
ruled  the  Virginian  mind,  we  turn  for  a  moment 
to  the  attitude  of  the  New  England  mind  toward 
this  new  democracy.  The  New  England  mind 
was  free,  it  declared ;  and  yet,  to  every  suggestion 
of  democracy,  the  one  cant  phrase  was  the  suf- 
ficient answer  in  that  day, —  "  Look  at  France!" 
The  French  Revolution,  which  to  Jefferson  had 
been  an  inspiration,  leaving  him  untouched  by  its 
anarchy,  only  moved  by  its  deep  emotions,  was 
to  New  England,  and  justly,  a  sign  of  anarchy 
and  a  herald  of  dissolution.  And  yet  in  New 
England  there  were  not  wanting  tendencies 
and  attempts  toward  a  democracy  which  Virginia 


172  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

was  fast  achieving.  In  New  England  the  growth 
of  Arminianism  —  the  doctrine  of  salvation  by 
faith  and  free  grace,  as  distinguished  from  the 
Calvinistic  decrees  —  was  matched  in  democratic 
tendency  by  the  inauguration  of  a  public  school 
system,  which,  as  Dr.  Hale  says,  was  as  genuinely 
and  joyously  adopted  as  though  men  did  not 
believe  in  total  depravity.  They  believed  the 
child  was  totally  depraved,  but  must  be  entirely 
educated.  To  this  must  be  added  the  determina- 
tion of  election  by  ballot ;  and  the  determination, 
by  written  law,  to  check  the  decisions  of  the 
General  Court.  And  yet,  may  it  be  said,  under 
the  term  of  this  lectureship,  it  was  John  Cotton 
who  held  that  democracy  was  not  a  fit  govern- 
ment for  Church  or  State.  He  might  well  have 
added  "for  Church  and  State";  for,  after  all 
that  can  be  said,  the  New  England  state  was  not 
democratic  except  in  its  town  meeting,  and  in  its 
town  meeting,  for  a  long  period,  inspected  its 
church  roll  to  determine  upon  the  right  to  vote. 
It  was  Thomas  Hooker,  standing  for  indepen- 
dence, declaring  for  Congregationalism  as  the 
democratic  form  of  government,  who  said  :  "  The 
foundation  of  authority  is  laid  in  the  free  consent 
of  the  people.  The  choice  of  the  people's  magis- 
trates belongs  to  the  people  of  God's  own  allow- 
ance.    They    who    have    the    power   to    appoint 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  173 

magistrates  have  also  the  right  to  place  bounds 
and  limitations  on  the  power  and  place  unto 
which  they  call  them.'* 

But  here  is  a  suggestion  of  divine  right  and 
that  theocracy  which  lay  at  the  very  root  of 
Hooker's  scheme  of  thought  concerning  the 
Church.  The  power  of  the  clergy  in  all  this 
district  was  equivalent  to  an  inquisition.  Con- 
trast Jefferson's  faith  in  the  rightness  of  the 
people,  the  way  in  which  he  felt  down  through  all 
the  ebullition  of  the  surface  to  the  great  under- 
current of  popular  thought,  and  placed  his  faith 
upon  that, —  contrast  this  with  the  statement  of 
that  man  who,  perhaps,  more  than  any  other, 
phrased,  in  strenuous  words  at  the  time,  the  feel- 
ing of  New  England  concerning  democracy.  I 
quote  from  Fisher  Ames  :  "  Our  country,"  said 
Fisher  Ames  in  1803,  "is  too  big  for  union,  too 
sordid  for  patriotism,  too  democratic  for  liberty. 
What  is  to  become  of  it?  He  who  made  it  best 
knows.  Its  vice  will  govern  it  by  practising 
upon  its  folly.  This  is  ordained  for  democracies." 
Again,  in  the  same  year,  Fisher  Ames  says : 
"  Democracy  cannot  last.  It  has  no  resistance, 
though  its  next  change  shall  be  into  a  military 
despotism.  The  reason  is  that  the  tyranny  of 
what  is  called  the  people  and  that  of  the  sword 
both  operate  alike  to  debase  and  corrupt,  until 


174  THOiMAS  JEFFERSON 

there  are  neither  men  left  to  desire  liberty   nor 
morals  with  power  to  sustain  justice." 

That  is  capital  English,  but  it  is  dreadful 
nonsense.  We  read  with  composure  these  decla- 
rations of  our  dissolution  in  1803,  and  might 
well  learn  from  them  an  abatement  of  our  fears 
for  1903.  It  was  George  Cabot  who  said  in 
1804:  "Even  in  New  England,  where  there  is 
among  the  body  of  the  people  more  wisdom  and 
deUberation  than  any  other  part  of  the  United 
States,  we  are  full  of  errors,  which  no  reason 
could  eradicate,  though  there  were  a  Lycurgus  in 
every  village.  We  are  democratic  altogether ; 
and  I  hold  democracy,  in  its  natural  operation,  to 
be  the  government  of  the  worst."  He  was 
anxious  to  betray  a  little  knowledge  of  Greek  by 
putting  democracy  over  against  the  government 
of  "the  best."  Such  natural  tendency  to  aristoc- 
racy and  learning  marked  the  public  utterances 
of  the  time.  We  have  now  the  attitude  of  two 
great  sections  of  a  great  country.  I  have  already 
quoted  to  you  the  different  impression  made 
upon  the  mind  of  Channing,  when,  in  1799  and 
1800,  he  was  a  private  tutor  in  Virginia.  This  is 
the  Virginia  which  he  so  much  applauds,  from 
his  applause  abating  only  his  disgust  for  their 
sensuality  and  their  slaves ;  yet,  in  this  pleasure- 
loving,    chivalric,     hospitable    Virginia,    all    the 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  175 

structures  of  society  rested  on  a  State  Church,  on 
primogeniture,  on  exemption  by  law  of  the 
seizure  for  debt  of  all  lands,  and  upon  slavery. 
And  these  foundations  Jefferson  set  himself  to 
remove  to  the  last  stone  of  the  substructure. 
These  were  the  props  at  which  he  struck.  These 
were  the  pillars  around  which  this  far-seeing  giant 
cast  his  arms  and  bowed  himself  Yet,  through- 
out all  this  period,  when  Jefferson  and  his  associ- 
ates, Madison,  Mason,  and  others,  were  working 
at  the  problem  of  democracy,  as  seen  in  the  abo- 
lition of  the  State  Church,  in  the  removal  of  the 
limitations  upon  the  law  in  favor  of  primogeni- 
ture, and  release  of  all  lands  from  debts  incurred 
in  a  previous  generation,  there  was  growing  the 
conviction  that  religion,  like  government,  de- 
pended upon  the  sovereign  soul.  The  phrase 
"  the  sovereign  citizen,"  and  the  phrase  "  the 
sovereign  soul,"  are  twins  of  their  thought.  The 
individual  responsibilities  to  man  as  constituting 
society,  and  to  God  as  dominating  with  his  will 
the  moral  sense  by  which  that  society  was  gov- 
erned, these  two  go  hand  in  hand  in  the  thought 
of  this  time.  Already  the  influence  of  Channing 
and  his  friends  was  beginning  to  be  avowed  and 
felt  on  every  hand.  One  shrewd  critic  of  the 
period  says :  "  Human  nature  was  adorned  with 
virtues  hardly  suspected  before,  and  with  hopes 


176  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

of  perfection  on  earth  altogether  strange  to  their 
theology.  So  strong  was  the  reaction  against  old 
dogmas  that  for  thirty  years  society  seemed  less 
likely  to  resume  the  ancient  faith  in  the  Christian 
Trinity  than  to  establish  a  new  Trinity,  in  which 
a  deified  humanity  should  have  place."  This  is 
an  exaggerated  statement  of  a  palpable  fact ;  for 
the  divinity  of  human  nature  was  fast  becoming  a 
corollary  to  the  rights  of  man.  The  elder  Buck- 
minster,  of  Portsmouth,  was  clinging  to  the  crum- 
bling enclosure  of  Calvinism,  and  yearning  over 
his  son  Joseph,  who  had  gone  into  bondage  to 
Boston  Unitarianism.  Just  then  Hosea  Ballou, 
having  caught  the  impulse  of  democracy  in  religion 
which  had  been  gathering  steadily  in  these 
Northern  lands  from  its  fountain-head  in  Vir- 
ginia, was  announcing  an  Universalism  more  ex- 
tended than  ever  Paul  or  Origen  proclaimed. 
The  faith  of  the  new  movement  declared  itself 
thus :  "  That  there  is  one  God,  whose  nature  is 
love,  revealed  in  one  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by  one 
Holy  Spirit  of  grace,  who  will  finally  restore  the 
whole  family  of  mankind  to  holiness  and  happi- 
ness." This  is  the  deliverance  of  New  Hamp- 
shire to  match  the  deliverance  of  Virginia.  And, 
while  this  seems  but  a  limited  movement  toward 
ultimate  democracy,  it  may  be  called,  in  view  of  the 
phraseology  it  announced,  an  ultimate  democracy 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  177 

to  be  achieved  by  intermediary  legislation. 
Already  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States 
had  put  upon  its  record  "  that  no  religious  test 
shall  ever  be  required  as  a  qualification  for  any 
office  or  public  trust  under  the  Constitution." 
And  Judge  Story,  commenting  upon  this,  de- 
clares, "  The  Catholic  and  the  Protestant,  the 
Calvinist  and  the  Arminian,  the  infidel  and  the 
Jew,  may  sit  down  now  to  the  communion-table 
of  the  National  Council,  without  any  inquisition 
into  their  faith  or  mode  of  worship." 

Another  of  the  results  of  the  democracy  for 
which  Jefferson  stood  was  that  certain  doctrines 
were  fast  falling  into  disregard,  preliminary  to 
their  final  collapse.  They  were  salvation  by 
belief,  exclusive  salvation,  and  the  criminality 
of  error.  It  was  fast  becoming  true  in  all  the 
churches  that  belief  was  to  give  way  to  the 
experience  of  religion.  For  this  the  Baptist 
stood,  with  his  rite  of  baptism.  For  this  the 
Methodist  stood,  with  his  doctrine  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  For  this  Campbell  stood  in  his  organiza- 
tion in  1809  of  the  sect  that  bears  his  name,  the 
sect  of  the  Disciples  of  Christ,  claiming  the  Bible 
as  the  sole  guide  of  faith  and  conscience.  And 
more  and  more  the  utterances  of  men  like  Paine 
and  Jefferson  and  their  associates  forbade  the 
erection  of  error  into  a  crime.     Probably   they 


178  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

did  not  quote,  but  they  believed   those  lines  of 
George  Herbert  in  which  he  says  :  — 

"  Be  calm  in  arguing,  for  fierceness 
Makes  error  a  fault  and  truth  discourtesy. 
Why  should  I  feel  another  man's  mistake 
More  than  his  sickness  or  his  poverty  ? 
In  love,  I  should  j  but  anger  is  not  love. 
Nor  wisdom,  neither ;  therefore  gently  move." 

So  for  liberty  of  expression  they  contended ; 
for  liberty  of  discussion,  and  for  liberty  of 
association. 

I  have  traced  in  this  very  imperfect  way  the  mo- 
tive and  attitude  of  democracy  as  understood  and 
expressed  by  Thomas  Jefferson.  Let  us  look 
now  for  a  few  moments  at  the  result  of  it  in 
the  whole  movement  of  the  religious  life  in 
America.  I  have  already  said  that  the  sover- 
eign citizen  and  the  sovereign  soul  had  come 
to  be  the  watchwords,  the  one  of  the  political, 
and  the  other  of  the  religious  world.  It  was 
not  that  all  realized  responsibility  as  citizens, 
nor  that  all  claimed  responsibiHty  as  souls. 
There  was  the  tendency  to  elevate  strong  gov- 
ernments, like  the  Methodist  and  the  Episco- 
palian, in  place  of  individualism.  But  still 
through  all  there  ran  the  same  impulse, —  the 
sense  of  responsibility  for  life,  not  for  opinion  ; 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  179 

for  conduct,  not  for  creed.  And  so  it  came  to 
pass  that  over  and  over  again  great  bodies  were 
found  drifting  away  from  the  established  require- 
ments of  their  faith,  and  yet  steadily  increasing 
the  sense  of  responsibility  for  righteousness. 

Democracy,  as  conceived  in  this  discussion,  is 
based  in  the  essential  dignity  of  human  nature, 
to  use  a  phrase  of  Channing, —  the  essential  dig- 
nity of  human  nature.  Under  its  influence  there 
could  not  for  long  survive  a  doctrine  of  deprav- 
ity vv^hich  was  a  reflection  upon  the  Creator's  wis- 
dom and  benevolence.  In  view  of  the  strenuous 
endeavor  for  the  liberation  of  the  slave,  made 
by  Jefferson  in  the  presentation  in  the  Assem- 
bly of  Virginia  of  his  bill  forbidding  the  impor- 
tation of  slaves  beyond  that  date  ;  of  his  endeavor 
for  the  emancipation  of  the  slave  and  his  disap- 
pointment that  the  State  of  Virginia  and  the 
country  in  which  slavery  was  a  fact  were  not 
ready  for  that  movement,  and  yet  declaring,  as 
he  did,  that  the  liberation  of  the  slave  was  as 
certainly  upon  the  books  of  destiny  as  any  other 
right  of  man,  it  could  not  be  possible  under 
these  conditions  that  the  doctrine  of  an  incurable 
hell  could  last  long.  But  the  real  stress,  the 
strain  of  integrity  laid  by  democracy  upon 
the  religious  life,  is  upon  the  self-sufliciency  of 
the  soul  to  be  its  own  guide  and  its  own  arbiter 


i8o  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

in  matters  of  religion.  The  Congregationalism 
which  began  as  intending  democracy,  soon  began 
to  seek  for  reinforcement  of  its  integrity  in  terms 
of  confession  beyond  the  terms  of  covenant  with 
which  it  at  first  contented  itself,  making  laborious 
statements,  appealing  to  assemblies  for  vindication 
and  for  guidance.  So  in  the  liturgical  churches 
the  tendency  to  enrichment  of  ritual,  the  elabora- 
tion of  services,  enforced  the  claim  for  the  aesthetic 
value  of  the  services  of  religion  as  distinguished 
from  the  stern  integrity  of  that  earlier  time.  And 
yet  I  think  it  may  be  said,  until  proof  to  the  con- 
trary is  furnished,  that  the  growing  feeling  that 
the  religious  life  needs  artificial  helps  in  the 
church  is  not  so  much  a  reflection  upon  democ- 
racy in  religion  as  It  is  a  reflection  upon  the 
verve  and  power  and  Individual  force  of  those 
who  constitute  the  group  which  seeks  so  to 
buttress  Itself.  The  effort  to  lean  upon  sup- 
ports instead  of  standing  erect ;  the  conscious- 
ness that  the  individual  soul  is  not  enough  for 
its  own  satisfaction, —  these,  under  manifold 
appearances,  represent  the  sense  of  insufficiency 
as  felt  by  the  failing  sense  of  God.  It  must 
never  be  mistaken  for  that  which  it  vainly  repre- 
sents ;  for  when,  in  the  order  of  self-government 
in  religion,  the  democratic  principle  is  deserted, 
it  is  proof,  not  that  new  faiths  have  arisen,  but 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  i8i 

that  new  weaknesses  have  appeared.  No  democ- 
racy is  possible  when  the  people  distrusts  itself. 
No  integrity  of  soul  can  be  vindicated  while  it 
lies  supine  upon  its  tradition  of  faith. 

I  speak  of  this  because  the  other  problem 
comes  associated  with  it  in  our  minds.  I  offer 
you  as  a  suggestion  in  this  connection  whether 
the  personal  value,  the  sense  of  personal  value, 
is  not  essential  to  the  whole  scheme  of  democ- 
racy in  religion ;  and  whether  the  tendency  to 
impersonality  in  religion  is  not  also  a  tendency 
to  irreligion  itself  What  is  meant  by  this  ?  From 
the  time  when  Hagar  uttered  her  feeble  cry, 
"  Thou,  God,  seest  me,"  in  the  old  folk  story 
of  the  Hebrews,  to  the  time  when  Jesus  said, 
"  I  am  not  alone,  for  the  Father  is  with  me," 
there  is  an  unbroken  succession  of  prophetic 
souls  who  have  learned  that  "  the  prophet  is 
he  who  knows  upon  what  adamantine  manhood 
he  must  take  his  stand,  and  to  what  heights  of 
divinity  he  must  look  up."  This  is  what  we 
mean  by  the  integrity  of  the  individual  soul. 
This  is  the  reason  for  the  insistence  by  earnest 
men  and  women  that  the  religious  life  of  America 
shall  resolve  itself  into  the  two  words  "  God " 
and  "  the  soul."  This  is  the  reason  for  the 
statement  continually  made  by  those  who  seek 
the   largest   liberty  for  the  souls  of  believers  in 


i82  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

the  great  facts  of  religion,  that  there  are  but 
two  words  in  religion,  "  God  "  and  "  the  soul  "  ; 
and  that  all  religion,  in  its  history,  philosophy,  and 
services,  has  been  the  effort  to  bridge  over  from 
the  one  great  pier  of  thought  to  the  other,  by 
virtue  of  which  the  soul  alone  may  find  God, 
and  God  may  seek  the  soul.  For,  said  Jesus, 
"The  Father  seeketh," — seeketh  :  the  search- 
ing God  is  on  our  path, —  "  The  Father  seeketh 
such  to  worship  him  as  worship  him  in  spirit  and 
in  truth."  More  and  more  we  must  hold,  it 
seems  to  me,  to  the  true  democratic  conception 
of  religion;  namely,  the  essential  validity  of  the 
soul's  own  rights.  What  led  Jefferson  to  pro- 
test against  slavery,  to  protest  for  the  rights  of 
the  States,  as  distinguished  from  the  centraliza- 
tion taught  by  Hamilton  ?  What  led  him  to 
phrase  the  ideal  of  equality  in  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  of  which  it  may  well  be  said  that 
it  states  not  "  glittering  generalities,  but  eter- 
nal ubiquities "  ?  What  led  him  to  turn  with 
faith  through  all  his  life  to  the  man  next  the 
soil,  as  distinguished  from  the  man  in  the  arti- 
ficiahties  of  the  city  ?  What  made  him  feel 
that  the  farmer,  not  the  trader,  was  the  man 
who  was  likeliest  to  find  his  rights  and  inde- 
pendence under  the  general  government?  All 
these  are  but  the  aspects,  in  the  domain  of  gov- 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  183 

ernment,  administratiorij  and  civic  duty,  of  that 
fundamental  thought  in  religion, —  that  in  the  last 
analysis  God  and  the  soul  are  alone  together ;  and 
all  that  abates  from  the  soul's  conscious  person- 
ality, and  all  that  interferes,  whether  in  terms  of 
pantheism  or  terms  of  impersonality  of  any  kind, 
with  the  conscious  presence  of  the  living  God 
with  the  living  soul,  must  tend  more  and  more 
to  irreligion.  Religion  is  an  experience,  and  all 
vital  experiences  are  personal. 

This,  then,  seems  to  me  the  lesson  of  the 
hour ;  namely,  that,  as  Jefferson  in  every  act  of 
his  life,  even  in  the  founding  of  the  University 
of  Virginia,  which  he  regarded  as  his  greatest 
service  to  the  nation,  put  the  responsibility  upon 
the  individual  mind,  so  religion  leaves  the  man 
shut  in  alone  with  God.  In  the  organization  of 
the  University  of  Virginia  we  have  a  singular 
instance  of  faith  in  unrestricted  liberty.  The 
University  of  Virginia  has  no  president,  no 
obligatory  sx:hedule  of  studies,  no  entrance  ex- 
aminations ;  has  no  rules  for  its  students  as  to 
the  attendance  upon  study  or  absence  from 
study.  It  makes  but  the  one  rule, —  that  in  the 
college  and  out  of  it,  in  the  seat  of  learning  or  at 
home,  each  student  is  to  bear  himself  as  a  gentle- 
man. That  much-abused  term  harks  back  to 
the  meaning  that  old    Thomas   Dekker   gave  it 


i84  THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

in  that  play  of  which  we  sometimes  quote  these 

lines :  — 

"  The  best  of  men 

That  e'er  wore  earth  about  him  was  a  sufferer; 

A  soft,  meek,  patient,  humble,  tranquil  spirit. 

The  first  true  gentleman  that  ever  breathed,'* 

This  was  the  conception  which  Jefferson  had  of 
the  University  of  Virginia,  in  which  he  felt  such 
pride;  and  that  conception  runs  parallel  to  the 
freedom  of  the  religious  life.  Error  cannot  be 
made  a  sin.  Mistake  cannot  be  erected  into  a 
crime.  Human  nature  cannot  pray  in  phalanx. 
It  is  not  possible  to  enhance  the  impact  upon 
the  mind,  even  by  multiplying  the  agencies  for 
approaching  the  shrines  of  worship.  Throughout 
the  whole  range  of  thought  the  dignity  of  human 
nature  and  the  sufficiency  of  each  soul  to  its  own 
task  before  God  appears.  And  what  was  said  by 
that  great  Democrat,  that  great  Republican,  that 
believer  in  his  country,  that  emancipator  of  the 
slave, —  "The  government  of  the  people,  by  the 
people,  for  the  people,  shall  not  perish  from  the 
earth,"  —  may  be  paraphrased,  it  seems  to  me,  as 
to  the  religious  life  and  its  tendency  among  our 
American  people, —  that  the  time  shall  come  when 
each  man  shall  find  God  for  himself,  and  shall 
tell  his  discovery  to  the  next  man  with  joy,  but 
without  insistence  that  he  shall  hear. 


VI 


William  Ellery  Channing  and  the  Growth 
of  Spiritual   Christianity 


WILLIAM    ELLERY  CHANNING  AND 

THE   GROWTH    OF   SPIRITUAL 

CHRISTIANITY. 

In  the  summer  of  1830  tidings  reached 
Charming  in  Newport  of  the  Revolution  of 
the  three  days  of  July  in  France.  It  was 
glorious  news  to  him :  for  it  meant  the  victory 
of  the  principles  ever  dearest  to  his  heart  — 
freedom  of  speech  and  the  rights  of  man  —  in 
the  land  which  from  young  manhood  he  had 
regarded  as  the  home  and  symbol  of  antagonistic 
principles.  A  free  press  and  a  free  people 
had  conquered  the  Bourbons  under  Charles,  and 
Lafayette  was  at  the  head  of  the  National  Guard. 
It  had  been  a  conflict  of  liberty  against  despotism, 
and  liberty  had  won.  In  his  exultation,  Channing 
shortened  his  vacation  and  hastened  to  Boston, 
that  he  might  have  part  in  what  he  supposed 
would  be  universal  jubilation.  But  to  his  dismay 
he  found  Boston  unmoved.  The  general  apathy 
shocked  and  disheartened  him ;  and,  when  shortly 
afterwards  a  young  Harvard  graduate  was  intro- 
duced to  him  by  Miss  Peabody,  Channing  greeted 
him  with  the  ironical  words :  "  I  see  you  young 
gentlemen  of  Cambridge  were  quite  too  wise  to 


i88     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

be  thrown  out  of  your  accustomed  serenity  by 
the  new  revolution  in  France  !  I  was  a  young 
man  in  college  in  the  days  of  the  first  French 
Republic,  and  at  every  crisis  of  its  history  our 
dignity  was  wholly  upset.  We  were  rushing  to 
meetings  of  sympathy  or  kindling  bonfires  of 
congratulation  and  walking  in  torchlight  pro- 
cessions. But  now  the  young  American  has 
come  to  years  of  discretion,  and  may  not  give 
way  to  such  unseemly  excitements."  At  the 
close  of  the  conversation,  when  the  young  man 
rose  to  take  leave,  Channing  invited  him  to  call 
again,  to  which  he  replied,  "  Yes,  sir,  I  will ;  for 
you  are  the  only  young  man  I  know  !  "  Instantly 
Channing  answered  in  a  loud  ringing  tone  that 
was  almost  an  hurrah,  "  Always  young  for  lib- 
erty !  " 

This  incident,  related  by  Miss  Peabody,  and 
especially  the  sentence,  "  Always  young  for  lib- 
erty," strikes  what  should  be  the  keynote  of  the 
discourse  concerning  Channing  to  which  this  oc- 
casion summons  us.  By  the  general  plan  of  the 
course  we  are  called  upon  to  consider  Channing 
primarily  as  an  apostle  of  spiritual  liberty,  and  as 
preacher,  philanthropist,  theologian,  only  in  so 
far  as  these  modes  of  his  activity  stand  related 
to  the  principle  of  spiritual  freedom.  Yet  this 
limitation   is  neither  unjust  to    him   nor   regret- 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     189 

table  by  those  who  honor  him  ;  for  in  the  case 
of  a  unified  character,  such  as  Channing's  un- 
deniably was,  the  whole  is  implicit  in  every  part, 
and  adequate  presentation  of  any  single  phase 
involves  consideration  of  the  character  as  a 
whole.  Moreover,  if  the  particular  principle 
selected  be  central  to  the  life,  especially  if  it  be 
the  organizing  one,  to  group  our  thoughts  about 
it  is  to  see  the  phases  of  the  nature  in  their  true 
relations  and  just  proportions.  That  love  of 
liberty  was  such  a  central  and  constructive  prin- 
ciple in  the  life  and  thought  of  Channing,  no 
one  can  doubt.  In  the  Introductory  Remarks 
to  the  first  volume  of  his  "  Collected  Works," 
Channing  mentions  two  thoughts  so  frequently 
occurring  in  all  his  writings  as  to  constitute  their 
characteristics ;  and  these  are  respect  for  the 
human  soul  and  reverence  for  liberty.  Of  the 
latter  he  says,  ['^  It  is]  a  sentiment  which 
has  grown  with  my  growth,  which  is  striking 
deeper  root  in  my  age,  which  seems  to  me  a 
chief  element  of  true  love  for  mankind,  and 
which  alone  fits  a  man  for  intercourse  with  his 
fellow-creatures.  I  have  lost  no  occasion  for 
expressing  my  deep  attachment  to  liberty  in  all 
its  forms,  civil,  political,  religious,  to  liberty  of 
thought,  speech,  and  the  press,  and  of  giving 
utterance  to  my  abhorrence  of  all  the  forms  of 


190     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

oppression.  This  love  of  freedom  I  have  not 
borrowed  from  Greece  or  Rome.  It  is  not  the 
classical  enthusiasm  of  youth  which  by  some 
singular  good  fortune  has  escaped  the  blighting 
influences  of  intercourse  with  the  world.  Greece 
and  Rome  are  names  of  little  weight  to  a  Chris- 
tian. They  are  warnings  rather  than  inspirers 
and  guides.  My  reverence  for  human  liberty 
and  rights  has  grown  up  in  a  different  school, 
under  milder  and  holier  discipline.  Christianity 
has  taught  me  to  respect  my  race  and  to  repro- 
bate its  oppressors.  It  is  because  I  have  learned 
to  regard  man  under  the  light  of  this  religion 
that  I  cannot  bear  to  see  him  treated  as  a  brute, 
insulted,  wronged,  enslaved,  made  to  wear  a  yoke, 
to  tremble  before  his  brother,  to  serve  him  as  a 
tool,  to  hold  property  and  life  at  his  will,  to  sur- 
render intellect  and  conscience  to  the  priest,  or 
to  seal  his  lips  or  belie  his  thoughts  through 
dread  of  the  civil  power.  It  is  because  I  have 
learned  the  essential  equality  of  men  before  the 
common  Father  that  I  cannot  endure  to  see  one 
man  establishing  his  arbitrary  will  over  another 
by  fraud  or  force  or  wealth  or  rank  or  super- 
stitious claims.  It  is  because  the  human  being 
has  moral  powers,  because  he  carries  a  law  in  his 
own  breast,  and  Vv^as  made  to  govern  himself,  that 
I  cannot  endure  to  see  him  taken  out  of  his  own 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     191 

hands  and  fashioned  into  a  tool  by  another's 
avarice  or  pride.  It  is  because  I  see  in  him  a 
great  nature,  the  divine  image,  and  vast  capacities 
that  I  demand  for  him  means  of  self-development, 
spheres  for  free  action ;  that  I  call  society  not  to 
fetter,  but  to  aid  his  growth.  Without  intend- 
ing to  disparage  the  outward,  temporal  advan- 
tages of  liberty,  I  have  habitually  regarded  it  in  a 
higher  light,  as  the  birthright  of  the  soul,  as  the 
element  in  which  men  are  to  put  themselves 
forth,  to  become  conscious  of  what  they  are,  and 
to  fulfil  the  end  of  their  being." 

From  this  quotation  it  is  plain  that  the  two 
distinctive  principles  of  all  Channing's  work,  re- 
spect for  the  human  soul  and  reverence  for  liberty 
and  human  rights,  were,  as  he  says,  intimately 
connected.  Indeed,  the  former  was  the  because 
to  the  latter's  therefore.  This  will  appear  more 
plainly  if  we  trace  the  origin  of  the  two  prin- 
ciples, and  so  discover  their  organic  affiliation. 

There  is  always  a  certain  futility  in  the  attempt 
to  account  for  a  great  man  by  reference  to  his 
heredity  and  environment,  especially  if  either  be 
unduly  emphasized.  To  enlarge  upon  environ- 
ment is  as  if  one  should  account  for  a  rose  by 
chemical  analysis  of  the  soil  out  of  which  it  grows, 
and  to  lay  stress  upon  heredity  is  as  if  one  should 
expect  a   bulb   kept   from  the  earth  to  blossom 


192     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

into  a  tulip.  Nor  can  the  union  of  the  two  suf- 
fice for  an  explanation ;  for  Channing's  brothers, 
eminent  as  they  were,  did  not  do  and  could  not 
have  done  his  work  in  the  world.  Let  us  ac- 
knowledge, then,  that  in  Channing,  as  indeed  in 
all  men,  there  was  the  ultimately  inexplicable,  that 
mysterious  individuality  which  passeth  knowledge. 
Notwithstanding  the  science  of  meteorology,  the 
wind  still  "  bloweth  where  it  listeth,  and  thou  hear- 
est  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst  not  tell  whence 
it  cometh  and  whither  it  goeth  "  ;  and,  notwith- 
standing all  that  may  be  said  of  heredity  and 
environment,  it  is  still  true  that  "so  is  every 
one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit."  But  with  this 
preliminary  caution  we  may  profitably  consider 
certain  influences  which  at  least  fostered  and 
encouraged  his  respect  for  man  and  reverence 
for  liberty. 

Channing  was  born  at  Newport,  R.I.,  on  the 
7th  of  April,  1780.  His  father  was  a  lawyer,  of 
rather  more  than  local  eminence,  becoming  at- 
torney-general of  the  State  in  1777,  and,  after  the 
adoption  of  the  Federal  Constitution,  district 
attorney  for  Rhode  Island.  His  mother  was 
daughter  of  William  Ellery,  one  of  the  Sons  of 
Liberty,  a  signer  of  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence, member  of  Congress  from  1776  to  1786 
with  the  exception  of  the  years   1780  and   1782. 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     193 

So  far,  then,  hereditary  influences  were  on  the 
side  of  freedom.  And  the  environment  was  no 
less  congenial.  Of  all  the  States  none  has  been 
more  zealous  for  liberty  than  the  State  of  Roger 
Williams.  It  may  be  granted  that  its  zeal  was 
not  always  according  to  knowledge, —  one  may 
applaud  the  freedom-loving  spirit  of  Roger  Will- 
iams without  approving  all  the  acts  which  it 
prompted, —  but  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  in  the 
little  State  love  of  independence  and  dislike  of 
everything  that  even  looked  toward  interference 
with  it  were  supreme.  Throughout  the  country 
there  was  objection  to  the  Order  of  the  Cin- 
cinnati. Rhode  Island  promptly  disfranchised  its 
members.  Of  Jeshurun  it  is  written  that  it 
waxed  fat  and  kicked,  but  against  all  authority 
assumed  by  Congress  Rhode  Island  in  utter 
leanness  outkicked  Jeshurun.  Its  attitude  toward 
the  Federal  Constitution  has  already  been  de- 
scribed in  this  course  by  President  Faunce.  It 
is  not  surprising,  therefore,  to  find  In  Channing 
the  independence  of  his  native  State,  tempered 
and  regulated,  however,  by  wisdom  and  reflection. 
In  Harvard,  which  he  entered  in  1794,  there  was 
almost  a  riot  of  school-boy  feeling.  Channing 
fraternized  with  those  who  wore  the  black  cockade, 
and  shouted  for  Adams  and  Liberty.  It  is  in- 
teresting to  recall  that  he  wrote  the  address  sent 


194 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 


by  the  students  to  President  Adams,  the  flam- 
boyant rhetoric  of  which  is  in  amusing  contrast 
with  the  chastened  style  of  his  mature  years,  and 
that,  when  the  college  faculty  announced  that  all 
political  discussion  must  be  excluded  from  the 
commencement  exercises,  Channing  indignantly 
resigned  the  oration  assigned  him  ;  nor  would  he 
consent  to  take  the  part  until  the  faculty  had 
made  concessions  which  to  himself  and  his 
friends  seemed  sufficient  to  meet  the  demands  of 
his  conscience  and  self-respect.  Yet  he  was  not 
content  that  the  matter  should  rest  thus ;  and  at 
one  point  in  his  oration  on  "  The  Present  Age," 
turning  to  the  faculty,  he  exclaimed  with  impas- 
sioned utterance,  "  But  that  I  am  forbid,  I  could 
a  tale  unfold  which  would  harrow  up  your  souls  !  " 
We  like  to  dwell  upon  this  early  exuberance  of 
Channing  because  of  his  later  moderation.  It  is 
pleasant  to  know  that  there  was  something  to 
moderate.  Channing  has  too  often  been  regarded 
as  naturally  deficient  in  emotion,  temperament- 
ally cool  and  intellectual ;  but  the  truth  is  that 
the  limitation  which  many  seem  to  find  in  him 
in  this  respect  was  not  a  natural  deficiency,  but 
a  self-restraint  deliberately  achieved  by  wisdom 
and  effort.  The  popular  opinion  is  based  mainly 
upon  his  pubUshed  sermons ;  but  it  should  be 
remembered  that  these  are  almost  all  occasional 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     195 

discourses,  out  of  which,  since  they  were  neces- 
sarily largely  controversial  in  character,  he  was 
particularly  careful  to  keep  the  heat  customarily 
associated  with  polemics,  trusting  to  light  alone, 
to  the  reason,  and  not  to  the  emotions,  for  his 
approval.  It  is  said  that  in  his  regular  work  — 
that  is,  in  his  parish  sermons  —  there  was  an  emo- 
tional warmth  not  found  in  his  published  dis- 
courses, and  criticisms  are  on  record  to  the  effect 
that  a  certain  sermon  tended  to  encourage  fanati- 
cism, and  that  in  general  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
putting  his  hearers  into  "  an  immense  excitement 
of  feeling."  It  is  hard  for  us  to  think  of  Chan- 
ning  as  a  man  of  intense  feeling,  yet  of  the  fact 
there  can  be  no  doubt.  In  his  letters  to  his  col- 
lege friends  there  is  stilted  sentimentality,  and 
sometimes  an  outburst  of  emotion  which  goes 
far  to  justify  Professor  Fisher's  reference  to  his 
"maudlin  tempers."  His  brother  wrote  to  him, 
"  You  are  the  baby  of  your  emotions,  and  dandled 
by  them  without  any  chance  of  being  weaned." 
He  himself  confesses  that  his  life  had  been  a 
struggle  with  his  feelings,  and  that  the  victory 
over  his  habit  of  reverie  and  musing,  in  which 
fancy  won  an  ascendency  dangerous  to  his  moral 
life  and  his  powers  were  weakened  and  dissipated, 
was  gained  by  the  reflection  that  virtue  does  not 
consist  in  feeling  but  in  acting  from  a  sense  of 


196     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

duty.  But,  with  this  curbing  of  his  emotions,  the 
passion  for  Hberty  only  grew  more  deep  and 
ardent,  so  that  toward  the  close  of  his  life  he  said 
in  a  sermon  to  his  own  people  that,  much  as  he 
valued  his  own  views  of  God  and  duty,  there  was 
a  cause  nearer  his  heart  than  any  particular  doc- 
trine, and  that  was  the  cause  of  religious  liberty. 
Thus  he  obeyed  at  eve  the  voice  obeyed  at 
prime ;  and  the  talent  given  him  by  heredity  and 
environment  did  its  proper  work  in  the  world, 
and  grew  by  the  doing. 

Here,  then,  was  the  youth  with  his  passionate 
love  of  liberty,  his  fervent  conviction  that  men 
ought  to  be  free  in  body,  mind,  and  soul ;  but  the 
religious  system  in  which  he  was  brought  up  was 
based  upon  a  conception  of  human  nature  with 
which  such  freedom  was  quite  incompatible. 
Berkshire  County  in  Massachusetts  has  a  well- 
deserved  reputation  for  summer  loveliness  and 
winter  austerity ;  but  its  worst  December  blasts 
are  balmy  compared  with  the  rigor  of  its  theo- 
logical solstice  in  the  second  half  of  the  eight- 
eenth century,  while  Edwards  was  at  Stockbridge, 
succeeded  by  West,  Hopkins  at  Great  Harrington, 
and  Bellamy  and  Smalley  not  far  away  in  Con- 
necticut. These  were  leading  representatives 
of  what  was  called  Consistent  Calvinism,  or 
sometimes  also  Berkshire  Divinity.      According 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     197 

to  their  teaching,  which  agreed  in  substance, 
although  there  were  individual  variations  at  spe- 
cial points,  man  as  man  was  totally  incapable  by- 
nature  of  knowing  and  loving  God,  and  must 
ever  remain  so  unless  enlightened  and  regener- 
ated by  special  grace.  Into  the  details  of  this 
Berkshire  Divinity  we  cannot  enter  here,  but 
it  would  be  gross  injustice  not  to  speak  of  the 
splendid  ethical  standard  it  set  up  for  the  regen- 
erate. Virtue  is  love  of  universal  being,  and 
this  virtue  comes  to  pass  in  man  only  by  the 
act  of  the  Spirit.  This  alone  is  goodness  accept- 
able to  God ;  and  how  paltry  and  impotent 
appeared  all  good  works,  judged  by  this  ideal  of 
true  virtue  and  genuine  goodness  !  That  was  a 
sublime  ethical  standard  which  in  the  hands  of 
Hopkins  took  the  practical  form  of  a  willingness 
to  be  damned  for  the  glory  of  God.  It  was  gen- 
erally conceded  that  some  were  to  be  damned,  and 
it  was  said  that  this  damnation  was  for  the  com- 
plete revelation  of  the  glory  of  God.  How  could 
God's  hatred  of  sin  be  shown  except  in  a  universe 
where  sin  is  to  be  found  ?  Therefore,  sin  is  in  the 
world.  But  how,  again,  can  his  hatred  of  it  be 
shown  except  by  his  awful  and  eternal  punish- 
ment of  it  ?  But  for  sin  and  hell,  therefore,  this 
side  of  God's  nature  would  be  unrevealed :  hence 
his  glory  would  be  imperfect.     For  the  glory  of 


198     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

God,  therefore,  some  are  to  be  damned  ;  and,  con- 
sequently, one  who  cares  not  for  himself,  but  only 
for  the  glory  of  God,  must  be  willing  to  be  among 
the  eternal  victims.  And,  since  such  desire  for  the 
glory  of  God  was  possible  only  to  the  regenerate, 
willingness  to  be  damned  for  the  glory  of  God 
became  a  test  of  regeneration.  Thus  even  this 
revolting  doctrine  testifies  to  the  grandeur  of  the 
ethical  teaching  of  the  Berkshire  Divinity  as  it 
was  held  by  Hopkins  in  the  form  of  Disinter- 
ested Benevolence.  Now  this  Samuel  Hopkins 
was  settled  in  Newport  in  1770,  and,  barring 
three  years  of  absence  during  the  Revolution, 
remained  as  minister  there  until  his  death  in 
1803.  Although  the  family  of  Channing  be- 
longed to  Dr.  Stiles's  church.  Dr.  Hopkins  and 
his  doctrines  were  well  known  ;  and,  when  the  other 
church  was  closed  for  some  time  after  the  war,  its 
members,  and  the  Channings  among  them,  at- 
tended upon  the  preaching  of  Dr.  Hopkins. 
And  Dr.  Hopkins  never  flinched  from  the 
most  uncompromising  declaration  of  his  princi- 
ples. It  is  said  that  on  one  occasion  the  unre- 
lenting doctor,  dining  with  a  young  minister,  de- 
tected the  ruflies  which  it  was  then  fashionable  to 
wear,  but  which  the  doctor  disliked,  peeping  out 
of  their  concealment  under  his  coat.  Whereupon 
the   doctor    said    with    some    asperity,  *'  I  don't 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     199 

care  for  ruffles  ;  but,  if  I  wore  them,  I'd  wear 
them  hke  a  man."  That  was  characteristic  :  oth- 
ers might  wear  theological  shackles  betrayed 
only  by  a  miserable  habit  of  shuffling,  but  Dr. 
Hopkins  wore  his  without  disguise,  holding 
them  gifts  of  God, —  anklets  and  bracelets  of 
beauty.  "  He  was  distinguished  for  nothing 
more  [says  Channing]  than  by  faithfulness  to  his 
principles.  He  carried  them  out  to  their  full 
extent.  Believing,  as  he  did,  in  total  depravity, 
believing  that  there  was  nothing  good  or  gener- 
ous in  human  nature  to  which  he  could  make  an 
appeal,  believing  that  he  could  benefit  men  only 
by  setting  before  them  their  lost  and  helpless 
condition,  he  came  to  the  point  without  any  cir- 
cumlocution, and  dealt  out  terrors  with  a  liberal 
hand." 

Evidently,  such  religious  teaching  as  this  made 
the  passion  for  liberty  logically  absurd.  Set  free  a 
child  of  the  devil,  whose  nature  is  depraved  !  Set 
free  a  mind  which  in  its  natural  condition  cannot 
possibly  learn  the  truth  of  God  !  Set  free  a  man 
who  by  his  very  nature  cannot  practise  true  virtue  ! 
In  fact,  these  Calvinists,  with  the  splendid  incon- 
sistency which  we  so  often  have  to  applaud  in 
men,  were  not  true  to  the  inevitable  logic  of  their 
creed ;  but  youth  is  not  so  waywise.  If  this 
teaching  were  true,  the  ideal  of  liberty  must  be 


200     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

denied.  Consequently,  there  were  many  who, 
identifying  his  doctrine  with  Christianity,  and 
succumbing  to  the  French  influence  then  rampant 
in  what  was  called  infidelity,  rejected  Christianity 
altogether.  Hence  Channing's  mind  was  exer- 
cised over  the  nature  and  evidences  of  Christian- 
ity, and  it  was  at  this  period  of  his  career  that  his 
great  experience  came.  Reading  one  day  certain 
passages  in  Hutcheson  which  asserted  man's  ca- 
pacity for  disinterested  affection,  he  saw  as  by  a 
light  from  heaven  the  truth  of  the  dignity  and 
worth  of  human  nature,  which,  his  biographer 
says,  became  henceforth  "the  fountain  light  of  all 
his  day,  the  master  light  of  all  his  seeing."  Is 
not  the  connection  of  thought  plain  ?  He  had 
learned  from  Hopkins  the  glory  of  disinterested 
benevolence,  but  also  that  it  is  the  property  only 
of  the  sons  of  God  ;  that  is,  the  regenerate.  But 
now  he  finds  Hutcheson  affirming  the  natural 
capacity  of  man  for  disinterested  affection.  Then 
is  not  man  naturally  a  child  of  God  ?  And,  if  so, 
then  is  not  the  nature  of  man  to  be  respected  and 
deemed  worthy  of  all  honor?  Yes,  is  it  not  plain 
now  that  man  may  be  trusted  with  liberty  and 
that  freedom  is  his  birthright,  even  as  God, 
whose  child  man  is,  is  free?  Thus  his  love 
of  hberty  found  its  support  and  guarantee  in  a 
thought  of  human  nature.     So  the  therefore  of 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     201 

freedom  found  its  because  in  the  thought  of  divine 
Fatherhood. 

Having  seen  that  the  two  ideas  of  respect  for 
man  as  man  and  reverence  for  liberty  were  thus 
as  one  at  heart  of  his  thinking,  we  are  prepared 
to  see  how  they  furnished  both  impulse  and 
method  to  his  practical  activity.  Very  recently  a 
magazine  article  referred  to  him  as  the  famous 
philanthropist.  That  he  would  not  have  objected 
to  the  term,  except  perhaps  on  the  ground  of  its 
swollenness,  appears  from  his  saying  in  a  report 
to  a  committee  of  Unitarians  appointed  to  con- 
sider the  Ministry-at-large,  "We  ought  to  be 
by  eminence  Christian  philanthropists."  And 
this  because  he  believed  that  the  motive  of  phil- 
anthropy must  be  respect  for  man  as  man,  and  its 
method  m.ust  be  the  liberation  of  the  mind  and 
soul  of  man.  Let  us  recall  his  specific  teaching 
with  reference  to  one  or  two  of  the  evils  of 
society,  to  see  how  this  motive  and  method  were 
applied.  The  distressing  problem  of  poverty 
forced  itself  upon  him.  Early  in  his  ministry  he 
wrote,  "Let  the  poor  be  my  end";  and  here 
are  a  few  of  the  many  disconnected  jottings  in 
his  journals,  showing  how  the  problem  lay 
in  his  mind  and  the  remedies  he  approved : 
"  Causes  of  poverty  to  be  traced.  Charity  is  not 
enough    directed.       Intimate    acquaintance    with 


202     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

poor  families.  Employment  found.  Provisions 
of  wood  in  large  quantities  at  cheap  prices,  and  so 
with  all  necessaries  of  life.  Excite  no  feeling  of 
dependence.  Stimulate  to  exertion.  Relief  such 
as  to  call  out  energy  and  remove  whatever  dis- 
heartens and  disables.  Comfortable  houses  to  be 
let  cheap  to  the  poor.  Innocent  and  improving 
amusements.  Interesting  works  to  be  circulated 
among  them.  Associations  among  mechanics  for 
mutual  support,  if  reduced.  Complete  course  of 
instruction  for  youth  designed  for  active  life. 
The  poor  need  moral  remedies.  Let  each  rich 
family  have  some  poor  under  their  care.  Con- 
nect the  poor  with  good  families."  These  are 
but  casual  memoranda  in  his  journals ;  but  how 
significant  they  are  in  the  light  of  approved 
methods  of  modern  philanthropy,  and  how  acute 
and  accurate  is  the  diagnosis  of  the  evil  !  A 
few  more  quotations  will  deepen  this  impres- 
sion. In  1833  he  wrote,  "It  seems  to  me 
an  important  means  of  improving  the  poor  to 
improve  the  classes  immediately  above  them, 
from  whom  their  number  is  constantly  recruited." 
In  his  address  on  Temperance  there  is  clear 
hint  of  the  modern  settlement  idea.  He  wrote 
one  sentence  which  should  be  graven  deep  in 
the  heart  of  every  would-be  philanthropist :  "  Be 
not  wilful   in  well-doing."     Such  was  to  be  the 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     203 

method, —  the  method  of  liberation  rather  than 
of  repression  ;  and,  next,  what  was  the  motive 
of  philanthropy  ? 

"  Does  any  one  ask  [he  says].  Why  shall  I  pity 
and  help  the  poor  man  ?  I  answer,  because  he  is 
A  MAN ;  because  poverty  does  not  blot  out  his 
humanity ;  because  he  has  your  nature,  your 
sensibilities,  your  wants,  your  fears  ;  because  the 
winter  wind  pierces  him  and  hunger  gnaws  him 
and  disease  racks  and  weakens  him  as  truly  as 
they  do  you.  Place  yourself,  my  friend,  in  his 
state.  Make  yourself  by  a  strong  effort  of 
thought  the  inhabitant  of  his  unfurnished  and 
cold  abode,  and  then  ask  why  you  should  help 
him.  He  is  a  man,  though  rags  cover  him, 
though  his  unshorn  hair  may  cover  his  human 
features, —  a  member  of  your  family,  a  child  of 
the  same  Father ;  and,  what  is  most  important,  he 
not  only  has  your  wants  and  feelings,  but  shares 
with  you  in  the  highest  powers  and  hopes  of 
human  nature.  He  is  a  man  in  the  noblest 
sense,  created  in  God's  image,  with  a  mind  to 
think,  a  conscience  to  guide,  a  heart  which  may 
grow  warm  with  sentiments  as  pure  and  generous 
as  your  own.  To  some  this  may  seem  declama- 
tion. There  are  some  who  seldom  think  of  or 
value  man  as  man.  It  is  man  born  in  a  particular 
rank,  clad  by  the  hand  of  fashion  and  munificence. 


204     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

moving  in  a  certain  sphere,  whom  they  respect. 
Poverty  separates  a  fellow-being  from  them,  and 
severs  the  golden  chain  of  humanity.  But  this  is 
a  gross  and  vulgar  way  of  thinking,  and  reason 
and  religion  cry  out  against  it.  The  true  glory 
of  man  is  something  deeper  and  more  real  than 
outward  condition.  A  human  being  created  in 
God's  image,  and,  even  when  impoverished  by 
vice,  retaining  power  essentially  the  same  with 
angels^  has  a  mysterious  importance  ;  and  his  good, 
where  it  can  be  promoted,  is  worthy  the  care  of  the 
proudest  of  his  race." 

Thus  again  and  again  Channing  teaches  that 
an  indispensable  prerequisite  to  social  usefulness 
is  a  vital  respect  for  man  as  man ;  and  it 
were  well  if  those  who  profess  to  love  men  had 
at  heart  the  genuine  respect  for  them  which 
Channing  had,  and  sought  to  inculcate.  Thus 
both  in  method  and  in  motive  we  find  Channing's 
governing  ideas.  We  should  serve  men  because 
they  are  men,  because  under  the  poverty  and  vice 
is  hidden  the  divine  image  of  exalted  humanity. 
Moreover,  aid  should  be  given  in  such  a  way  as 
to  remove  the  obstructions  which  prevent  the 
realization  of  the  divine  ideal  and  let  the  humanity 
shine  forth.  To  quicken  the  mind  of  man  by 
truth  and  the  soul  of  man  by  love  is  the  only 
way  to  lift  him  permanently  out  of  poverty  and 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     205 

vice.  Poverty  needs  moral  remedies.  To  free 
the  enslaved  mind  is  the  method ;  and  respect  for 
man  as  man,  and  not  merely  love  for  him  as  a 
poor  man,  is  the  motive  of  philanthropy.  If  it  be 
true,  as  Dr.  Warner  declares  in  American  Chari- 
ties^ that  "  the  preventive  and  educational  work, 
in  proportion  to  other  kinds,  has  been  more  largely 
undertaken  by  the  Unitarians  than  by  any  other 
denomination,"  it  is  because  they  have  learned  of 
Channing  and  have  been  made  to  drink  in  of  his 
spirit. 

Take  another  evil,  that  of  drunkenness,  and  see 
how  Channing  treats  it  from  the  point  of  view  of 
his  creative  principles.  To  him,  naturally,  the 
great  evil  in  intemperance  is  inward,  mental  and 
spiritual.  It  is  the  voluntary  extinction  of 
reason,  wilful  self-degradation  of  man  to  the  level 
of  the  brutes.  Among  its  causes  he  enumerates 
the  exhausting  burdens  of  daily  toil,  which 
prompt  the  overworked  to  seek  stimulants ;  the 
narrowness  of  lot  which,  by  depriving  the  laborer 
of  both  the  opportunity  and  the  capacity  for  intel- 
lectual pleasures,  restricts  him  to  the  gratification 
of  the  senses  ;  the  lack  of  self-respect  among  the 
poor,  due  to  low  social  ideals ;  and  the  general 
materialism  of  the  community.  To  be  stimu- 
lated, he  says  in  substance,  is  our  great  and  uni- 
versal want.     For  this  we   read,  and  to  this  we 


2o6     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

devote  our  business  hours.  People  even  go  to 
church  to  be  stimulated  rather  than  improved. 
Thus  the  thirst  for  stimulants  characterizes  the 
community,  and  in  those  classes  who  can  afford 
themselves  only  a  stimulus  of  intoxicating 
liquors  the  spirit  of  the  age  breaks  out  in  intem- 
perance. Is  not  this  a  remarkably  comprehensive 
and  profound  view  of  the  case,  especially  in  its 
clear  perception  that  intemperance  cannot  be  re- 
garded as  a  detached  vice,  but  is  constitutional  in 
man  and  in  society  ?  And  the  remedies  pro- 
posed are  equally  noteworthy.  First  of  all,  there 
must  be  physical  training,  since  many  become 
sots  through  bodily  infirmity.  Again,  since  many 
fall  into  the  vice  from  lack  of  intellectual  interests, 
a  resurrection  of  mind  is  demanded  ;  music,  art, 
reading,  wholesome  amusements,  must  be  pro- 
vided. In  a  word,  the  moral  and  intellectual  tone 
of  the  individual  and  of  the  community  must  be 
raised.  Seriously,  have  we  gone  so  very  far  be- 
yond Channing  in  our  treatment  of  intemper- 
ance ?  — 

"  Are  we  wiser,  better  grown, 
That  we  may  not,  in  our  day, 

Make  his  thought  our  own  ?  " 

Intemperance  is  a  heinous  sin,  because  by   it 
man  is  degraded  from  his  humanity,  the  dignity 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     207 

of  human  nature  is  impaired ;  and  the  remedy  is 
in  the  upbuilding  of  the  higher  Hfe  of  man,  in 
setting  free  his  dormant  powers  and  arousing  his 
soul.  So  the  present-day  emphasis  upon  per- 
sonality is  only  an  echo  of  Channing.  "  What, 
strike  a  man!''  he  said,  when  told  of  flogging 
in  the  navy.  A  man,  in  poverty  and  vice !  A 
man,  a  drunkard  !  Then  let  brother  help 
brother !  Let  man  help  man  !  Let  the  per- 
sonality of  the  stronger  bring  life  to  the 
personality  of  the  weaker,  and  permanent  gain 
shall  be  wrought.  It  would  be  profitable  to 
consider  also  his  relation  to  other  social  reforms, 
such  as  education,  in  co-operation  with  Horace 
Mann,  and  peace,  in  company  with  Noah  Wor- 
cester; but  time  forbids.  Yet  such  an  exami- 
nation would  only  strengthen  the  conclusion 
already  reached,  that  Dr.  Channing's  chief  con- 
structive principles  were  present  in  all  his  phil- 
anthropic work.  His  motive  was  reverence  for 
man  as  man,  and  his  method  was  not  so  much  to 
suppress  the  lower  instincts  as  to  liberate  the 
higher  nature  of  man.  The  motive  of  human- 
ity, the  method  of  liberty. 

One  aspect  of  Dr.  Channing's  philanthropic 
work  cannot  be  passed  over  without  mention, 
slight  as  the  mention  must  be, —  his  attitude 
toward   slavery.      In  Miss    Kingsley's  vivacious 


2o8     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

"  West  African  Studies  "  is  a  quotation  from 
a  certain  John  Harford,  of  England  :  "  Liberia 
was  taken  over  by  the  American  Republic  and 
made  a  free  country  for  all  those  slaves  that 
were  liberated  in  the  time  of  the  great  eman- 
cipation brought  about  by  that  good  man, 
W.  E.  Channing."  This  is  noteworthy  as  show- 
ing the  opinion  of  one  who  may  fairly  be 
called  an  outsider  with  reference  to  the  anti- 
slavery  movement  in  the  United  States,  for 
Channing  has  sometimes  been  represented  as 
faithless  in  this  direction  to  his  great  principles 
of  human  freedom.  But  he  did  not  seem  indif- 
ferent at  the  time  ;  for  many  of  his  friends,  and  in 
his  congregation,  deemed  him  extreme  in  his  oppo- 
sition to  slavery,  and  wished  he  would  leave  the 
troublesome  question  alone.  The  truth  is  that  he 
was  condemned  by  the  Abolitionists  who  could 
see  but  one  way  to  free  the  slave, —  and  that  was 
theirs, —  and  who,  in  consequence,  had  scant  sym- 
pathy with  any  who  were  not  wholly  of  their  way 
of  thinking.  As  a  tutor  in  the  family  of  Ran- 
dolph in  Virginia,  he  had  first  come  to  hate  slav- 
ery ;  but  it  was  during  his  visit  to  St.  Croix  in 
1830  that  he  experienced  a  regeneration  upon 
the  subject.  When  he  returned  to  Boston,  the 
topic  was  in  the  forefront  of  discussion.  Garri- 
son had  started    the  Liberator,  and   the  political 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     209 

aggressiveness  of  the  South  was  becoming  more 
marked  and  offensive.  It  would  be  as  easy  as 
needless  to  multiply  citations  for  the  purpose 
of  showing  that  in  his  eyes  the  crowning  iniq- 
uity was  not  the  scourged  body,  but  the  imbruted 
soul  of  the  slave.  Of  course,  the  system  was 
horrible  and  intolerable  ;  but  how  was  it  to  be 
swept  away  ?  Here  Channing  was  too  wise  and 
just  to  be  dogmatic.  At  Randolph's  house  he 
had  often  heard  slaveholders  speak  of  the  system 
with  an  abhorrence  equal  to  his  own,  and  he  had 
trusted  that  spirit  to  possess  the  South  and  ulti- 
mately abolish  the  iniquity.  But  he  saw  only  too 
plainly  that  the  vehement  attacks  of  the  Aboli- 
tionists were  uniting  the  South  in  defence  of  the 
wrong,  and,  as  he  feared,  putting  off  the  day  of 
deliverance.  Moreover,  he  had  seen  the  good 
side  of  slavery,  the  absence  of  pauperism  and 
the  personal  loyalties  often  developed  between 
slaves  and  members  of  the  master's  family ;  and, 
although  he  had  not  been  deluded  by  these 
things  nor  led  to  hate  the  iniquity  one  whit 
the  less,  he  found  the  facts  perplexing  in  consid- 
ering methods  of  emancipation.  Moreover,  he 
looked  forward  to  the  condition  of  the  slaves 
immediately  after  emancipation, —  weak,  igno- 
rant, poor, —  and  wondered  what  would  be  their 
fate  when    liberated.     So  he  could  not  go  fully 


2IO     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

with  the  Abolitionists.  The  question  did  not 
seem  to  him  so  simple,  nor  the  answer  so  obvi- 
ous, as  to  them.  But,  when  Lovejoy  was  slain 
at  Alton,  his  name  headed  the  petition  for  the 
use  of  Faneuil  Hall  in  which  to  hold  an  indig- 
nation meeting ;  and  when,  in  deference  to  a 
counter-petition,  the  request  was  denied,  Chan- 
ning's  voice  was  heard  in  calm  and  effective 
remonstrance.  When  the  Abolitionists  met  a 
committee  of  the  legislature,  Channing  ap- 
peared, and  took  Garrison  by  the  hand.  He 
spoke  sorrowfully  of  the  public  indifference  to 
the  great  subject  of  slavery,  and  wrote  and 
preached  against  it.  In  this  matter,  however, 
as  in  others,  he  trusted  to  general  rather  than 
specific  measures,  and  could  not  see  his  way 
clear  to  immediate  emancipation.  Hence,  while 
the  Abolitionists  assailed  him  from  the  one 
side,  the  conservatives,  many  of  whom  were  in 
his  own  church,  attacked  him  from  the  other. 
Notices  of  anti-slavery  meetings  designed  to  be 
read  from  his  pulpit  were  intercepted  by  vigilant 
watchers  and  kept  from  reaching  him.  The  use 
of  his  church  was  refused  for  an  anti-slavery  meet- 
ing and  even  for  a  memorial  service  in  honor  of 
his  old  and  tried  friend  and  comrade.  Dr.  Follen. 
Although  thus  between  two  fires,  he  kept  his 
even  way,  hating  the   evil  because  it  denied  the 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     211 

divineness  of  the  human  soul,  yet  not  seeing 
clearly  the  method  of  relief  His  confidence 
was  in  mental,  and  not  merely  in  physical 
emancipation.  Now  that  the  smoke  and  dust 
of  the  conflict  have  blown  away,  and  espe- 
cially in  the  light  of  subsequent  developments 
which  Channing  clearly  foresaw,  are  we  not  in 
a  position  to  judge  his  attitude  and  that  of 
many  another  like  him  more  justly  and  sympa- 
thetically than  was  possible  at  the  time  ?  We 
see  now  that  often  the  Abolitionists  branded 
men  with  stigmas  which  cling  to  them  even  yet 
in  popular  estimation,  who  were  every  whit  as 
zealous  for  liberty  and  against  slavery  as  them- 
selves, but  who  could  not  see  the  way  to  accom- 
plish their  deep  desires.  No  friend  of  Channing 
need  doubt  that  in  the  future  men  will  find  no 
inconsistency  between  his  practice  and  his  creative 
principles,  nor  conclude  that  he  was  any  the  less 
a  lover  and  prophet  of  liberty  because  he  saw 
the  situation  perhaps  more  clearly  than  those 
who  condemned  him,  and  sought  their  ends  by 
other  means. 

We  have  dwelt  so  long  upon  Channing  as  a 
prophet  of  liberty  in  social  reforms,  in  order  that 
we  might  obtain  the  true  point  of  view  from  which 
to  judge  his  religious  and  theological  work.  It 
can  be  deemed  nothing  less  than  a  grievous  mis- 


212     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

fortune  that  Channing  was  forced  quite  against 
his  nature  and  inclination  into  theological  contro- 
versy, and  this  for  two  reasons  ;  In  the  first  place, 
it  has  given  him  the  standing  of  a  controversialist 
in  the  popular  mind,  whereas  we  are  informed 
that  among  all  his  unpublished  manuscripts  not 
one  was  to  be  found  of  a  controversial  character, 
a  fact  which  shows  that  all  such  sermons  and  arti- 
cles written  were  published.  Hence  in  his  "  Col- 
lected Works  '*  the  proportion  of  polemics  is  very 
much  larger  than  it  was  in  his  real  interest  and 
activity.  Moreover,  a  misunderstanding  as  to  the 
true  nature  of  the  Unitarian  Controversy  has 
directed  attention  to  quite  the  most  vulnerable 
point  in  all  Channing's  religious  thought,  and 
by  it  mainly  he  has  been  judged.  To  be  explicit, 
it  is  commonly  supposed  that  the  principal  point 
of  contention  between  liberals  and  conservatives 
in  New  England  at  the  beginning  of  the  last 
century  was  the  nature  of  Jesus  and  the  corre- 
lated doctrine  of  the  Trinity.  It  is  true  that 
point  did  assume  prominence,  and  the  name 
Unitarian,  forced  upon  the  liberals  against  their 
wish  and  protest,  has  perpetuated  the  dispropor- 
tionate prominence  of  the  doctrine ;  but,  as  so 
often  happens  in  religious  controversy,  the  prin- 
cipal subject  of  debate  was  not  the  real  point 
at  issue.     As  every  one  familiar  with  the  history 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     213 

is  aware,  the  fundamental  difference  was  not  on 
the  nature  of  Christ,  but  on  the  nature  of  man. 
Yet  because  Channing,  as  representative  of  the 
liberals,  has  usually  been  studied  with  reference 
to  his  Christology,  he  has  suffered  as  a  thinker 
in  popular  and  even  scholarly  regard.  Professor 
Fisher  has  said  that  "  the  particular  conception 
which  Channing  set  up  in  the  room  of  the  church 
doctrine  of  the  Incarnation  is  one  of  the  crudest 
notions  which  the  history  of  speculation  on  that 
subject  has  ever  presented."  It  is  an  extreme 
statement,  and  yet  there  is  substantial  justice 
in  it.  Channing  thought  of  Jesus  as  certainly 
pre-existent,  the  highest  of  all  created  beings, 
and  only  short  of  the  Eternal  God  himself. 
But  this  high  Arianism  is  open  to  most  of  the 
objections  urged  against  historic  Trinitarianism 
on  the  one  hand  and  pure  humanitarianism  on 
the  other.  Obviously,  Channing  was  led  to  it 
by  certain  New  Testament  teachings  which  un- 
questionably represent  Jesus  as  a  pre-existent 
being  of  creation's  highest  order ;  and  the  mod- 
ern science  of  New  Testament  criticism  was 
below  Channing's  horizon.  Miss  Peabody 
reports  him  as  saying  once :  "  I  do  not  deem 
it  a  question  of  importance,  and  may  change 
my  view  with  respect  to  it.  I  am  aware  I  have 
never  put   my  mind  upon  it."     "  I  have  never 


214     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

put  my  mind  upon  it," — and  yet  by  that  doctrine 
more  than  by  any  other  he  is  popularly  known 
and  estimated  as  a  religious  thinker.  Plainly, 
to  his  own  mind,  the  moral  personality  of  Jesus 
was  an  all-sufficient  attestation  of  his  authority, 
and  reason  for  adoration.  Theoretically,  Chan- 
ning  remained  an  Arian,  but  practically,  so  far  as 
emphasis  in  teaching  and  significance  to  thought 
are  concerned,  he  became  a  Humanitarian.  The 
Trinitarians  believed  in  the  pre-existent  Christ  sus- 
taining an  eternal,  inherent  relation  to  the  Father. 
Channing  rejected  the  eternal  and  essential  rela- 
tion, but  retained  the  pre-existence,  because,  hav- 
ing saved  the  unity  of  God,  he  no  longer  was 
deeply  interested  in  the  problem.  For  let  it 
never  be  forgotten,  the  nature  of  man  and  the 
competence  of  human  powers  in  religion  was 
the  real  point  at  issue  between  the  parties ;  and 
to  Channing's  mind  the  controversy  was  not 
so  much  of  doctrine  against  doctrine  as  of  bon- 
dage against  freedom.  As  has  already  been 
shown,  the  rigorous  Calvinistic  creed  appeared 
to  him  a  prison-house  within  which  the  mind 
was  held  in  slavery, —  its  rights  denied,  its  pow- 
ers maligned.  However  it  may  have  appeared 
to  others,  the  conflict  so  presented  itself  to 
Channing ;  and  few  who  now  survey  the  strife, 
with  its  antecedents  and  consequences,  will  hesi- 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     215 

tate  to  affirm  that  his  view  was  just.  There- 
fore, his  prominent  participation  in  it  was  only 
another  illustration  of  his  constraining  love  of 
liberty,  springing  out  of  his  conception  of  human 
nature. 

Moreover,  it  looked  to  Channing  as  if  there 
were  an  insidious  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  con- 
servatives to  undermine  the  cardinal  principles  of 
Congregationalism,  the  polity  of  ecclesiastical 
freedom  in  which  he  believed  with  all  his  heart. 
In  1820,  he  wrote:  "Congregationalism  is 
the  only  effectual  protection  of  the  Church 
from  usurpation,  the  only  effectual  security  of 
Christian  freedom,  of  the  right  of  private  judg- 
ment. As  such,  let  us  hold  it  dear.  Let  us  es- 
teem it  an  invaluable  legacy.  Let  us  resist  every 
effort  to  wrest  it  from  us.  Attempts  have  been 
made,  and  may  be  repeated,  to  subject  our 
churches  to  tribunals  subversive  of  their  inde- 
pendence. Let  the  voice  of  our  fathers  be  heard, 
warning  us  to  stand  fast  in  the  liberty  with  which 
Christ  has  made  us  free.  The  independence  of 
our  churches  was  the  fundamental  principle  which 
they  aimed  to  establish  here,  and  here  may  it 
never  die.'*  That  Channing  had  good  reason  for 
his  apprehensions  cannot  be  questioned.  The 
Panoplist  had  suggested  the  setting  up  of  ecclesi- 
astical tribunals,  the  object  of  which  was  to  dis- 


2i6     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

fellowship  the  liberals.  The  ancient  proposals 
of  1705,  after  lying  for  a  century  in  the  limbo  to 
which  John  Wise  consigned  them,  were  resur- 
rected and  urged  anew.  And,  if  formal  tribunals 
were  not  possible,  there  was  a  warfare  of  insinua- 
tion and  misrepresentation  and  depreciation,  a 
withdrawal  of  real  fellowship,  which  was  tanta- 
mount to  excommunication.  There  was,  then,  a 
moral,  if  not  an  ecclesiastical,  influence  exerted 
against  freedom  of  thought  and  speech  which  the 
liberty-loving  spirit  of  Channing  could  not  brook. 
In  very  truth,  Channing's  place  in  the  controversy 
was  due  not  to  views  concerning  the  Trinity  and 
pre-existence  so  much  as  to  the  two  creative  princi- 
ples which  his  whole  career  illustrates, —  respect  for 
man  as  man  and  reverence  for  liberty  and  human 
rights. 

The  operation  of  these  principles  we  have  to 
trace  once  more  in  a  crisis  which  shows  him  at 
his  very  noblest.  Unitarianism,  as  it  was  called, 
became  popular  and  fashionable  in  Boston  and 
vicinity  ,  and,  by  and  by,  its  adherents,  forced  out 
of  the  old  Congregational  fellowship,  began  to 
hanker  for  the  flesh-pots  of  sectarianism.  With 
this  came  a  stiffening  of  theological  doctrine  until 
Channing  was  led  to  say  sadly,  "  We  have  a 
Unitarian  orthodoxy."  Could  he  who  abomi- 
nated sects  have  part  in  one,  even  though  it  were 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     217 

the  outcome  of  a  movement  with  which  he  had 
been  identified  ?  Could  he  who  beheved  in 
absolute  freedom  regard  with  complacency  the 
rise  of  a  Unitarian  orthodoxy  P  Manifestly  not. 
Hence  we  find  him  exceedingly  jealous  of  all  asso- 
ciations which  had  collective  power,  for  whatever 
purpose  or  with  whatever  high  intentions  designed ; 
and  hence  it  is  that  Parker  could  write  that  there 
were  two  parties  among  the  Unitarians,  of  which 
the  progressive  party  was  led  by  Dr.  Channing. 
To  this  period  belong  certain  utterances  over 
which  every  Unitarian,  and  particularly  every 
Channing  Unitarian,  lingers  with  more  joy  and 
pride  than  over  any  other  words  he  ever  wrote. 

So  early  as  1828,  in  a  sermon  upon  "The 
Great  Purpose  of  Christianity,"  he  said  :  "  I  have 
no  anxiety  to  wear  the  livery  of  any  party.  I 
indeed  take  cheerfully  the  name  of  a  Unitarian 
because  unwearied  efforts  are  used  to  raise  against 
it  a  popular  cry  ;  and  I  have  not  so  learned  Christ 
as  to  shrink  from  reproaches  cast  upon  what  I 
deem  his  truth.  Were  the  name  more  honored, 
I  should  be  glad  to  throw  it  off;  for  I  fear  the 
shackles  which  a  party  connexion  imposes.  I 
wish  to  regard  myself  as  belonging  not  to  a  sect, 
but  to  the  community  of  free  minds,  of  lovers  of 
truth,  of  followers  of  Christ  both  on  earth  and  in 
heaven.     I  desire  to  escape  the  narrow  walls  of  a 


2i8     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

particular  church,  and  to  live  under  the  open  sky, 
in  the  broad  light,  looking  far  and  wide,  seeing 
with  my  own  eyes,  hearing  with  my  own  ears,  and 
following  truth  meekly,  but  resolutely,  however 
arduous  or  solitary  be  the  path  in  which  she 
leads.  I  am,  then,  no  organ  of  a  sect,  but  speak 
for  myself  alone;  and  I  thank  God  that  I  live  at 
a  time  and  under  circumstances  which  make  it  my 
duty  to  lay  open  my  whole  mind  with  freedom 
and  simpHcity."  This  is  the  Channing  whom 
Unitarians  love  and  rejoice  in,  deserving  the 
name  of  Channing  Unitarians  only  as  this  spirit  is 
in  them.  And  so  to  the  end  of  life  his  spirit  was 
forward-looking.  He  resented  the  notion  that 
youth  tastes  the  best  of  life,  leaving  to  age  only 
its  unpalatable  dregs,  proclaiming  about  sixty  the 
best  time  of  life,  when  this  was  the  tale  of  his  own 
years.  Like  the  great  father  of  our  New  England 
Congregationalism,  he  believed  that  more  light 
and  truth  were  yet  to  break  forth  out  of  God's 
Word,  that  Unitarianism,  as  it  then  was,  was  but 
the  vestibule  through  which  men  must  journey  to 
the  ampler  truth  beyond. 

There  came  a  severe  test  of  loyalty  to  his  prin- 
ciples when  Ripley,  Emerson,  and  Parker  began 
a  reform  upon  his  reform.  He  himself  believed 
firmly  in  miracles,  deeming  them  important,  al- 
though the  personal   character  of  Christ  was  of 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     219 

supreme  importance.  But  Parker  came  denying 
the  miracles,  and  affirming  that  the  personal  char- 
acter of  Christ  had  nothing  in  the  world  to  do 
with  the  truth  or  error  of  his  teaching.  The 
demonstrations  of  Euclid  are  demonstrations, 
whatever  Euclid  may  have  been,  whether  virtu- 
ous or  vicious.  Here  was  a  man  in  Channing's 
own  fellowship  whose  thought  was  momentously 
adverse  to  his ;  yet  let  it  always  be  said  to  Chan- 
ning's honor  that  there  came  from  him  no  word 
of  condemnation,  no  demand  for  excommunica- 
tion, no  word  of  sympathy  with  those  who  would 
fain  silence  the  heretic.  "  Let  a  full  heart  pour 
itself  forth,"  said  Channing.  This  seems  to  me 
in  all  the  circumstances  one  of  the  resplendent 
moments  in  his  career,  a  shining  proof  that  the 
love  of  liberty,  even  when  freedom  produced 
what  he  deemed  error,  was  of  supreme  worth  in 
his  eyes.  Then,  as  in  the  Kneeland  case,  he 
demonstrated  that  in  his  eyes  freedom  of  think- 
ing was  actually  more  precious  than  correctness 
of  thought. 

An  apostle  of  spiritual  freedom,  then,  he  was 
rightly  called.  And  it  was  a  fitting  close  to  his 
career  that  his  last  address  was  on  the  emancipa- 
tion of  the  slaves  in  the  West  Indies,  spoken  in 
Lenox  on  the  ist  of  August,  1841.  What  could 
be    in    more  perfect  harmony   with    his    whole 


220     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

thought  and  life  than  the  concluding  words  of  this 
his  last  public  deliverance  ?  — 

"  I  began  the  subject  in  hope,  and  in  hope  I 
end.  I  have  turned  aside  to  speak  of  the  great 
stain  on  our  country  which  makes  us  the  by-word 
and  scorn  of  the  nations.  But  I  do  not  despair. 
Mighty  powers  are  at  work  in  the  world.  Who 
can  stay  them  ?  God's  word  has  gone  forth,  and 
it  cannot  return  unto  him  void.  A  new  compre- 
hension of  the  Christian  spirit,  a  new  reverence 
for  humanity,  a  new  feeling  of  brotherhood  and 
of  all  men's  relation  to  the  common  Father, — 
this  is  among  the  signs  of  our  times.  We  see  it : 
do  we  not  feel  it  ?  Before  this  all  oppressions 
are  to  fall.  Society  silently  pervaded  by  this  is 
to  change  its  aspect  of  universal  warfare  for  peace. 
The  power  of  selfishness,  all-grasping  and  seem- 
ingly invincible,  is  to  yield  to  this  diviner  energy. 
The  song  of  angels.  On  earth  Peace,  will  not 
always  sound  as  fiction.  Oh,  come,  thou  kingdom 
of  heaven,  for  which  we  daily  pray !  Come, 
Friend  and  Saviour  of  the  race,  who  didst  shed 
thy  blood  on  the  cross  to  reconcile  man  to  man, 
and  earth  to  heaven  !  Come,  ye  predicted  ages 
of  righteousness  and  love,  for  which  the  faithful 
have  so  long  yearned  !  Come,  Father  Almighty, 
and  crown  with  thine  omnipotence  the  humble 
strivings  of  thy  children   to  subvert  oppression 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     221 

and  wrong,  to  spread  light  and  freedom,  peace 
and  joy,  the  truth  and  spirit  of  thy  Son,  through 
the  whole  earth." 

So  ends  the  final  message  spoken  to  the  world 
by  this  true  and  faithful  witness  to  the  dignity  of 
man  and  the  worth  of  spiritual  liberty.  It  was 
not  the  last  that  came  to  him  from  the  source 
whence  all  his  life  proceeded  ;  for  his  last  recorded 
utterance  was  the  feebly  whispered  words,  "  I  have 
received  many  messages  from  the  Spirit."  After 
delivering  the  Lenox  address,  he  tarried  awhile 
longer  in  the  lovely  Berkshire  region,  and  then 
started  for  Boston,  driving  through  Pittsfield  and 
Williamstown  to  Bennington,  where  he  was  taken 
ill,  and  with  the  passing  days  slowly  faded  from 
earth  to  heaven.  When  Dean  Stanley  visited 
Boston,  he  asked  to  be  taken  to  Mount  Auburn ; 
and,  in  response  to  a  somewhat  surprised  inquiry 
as  to  the  object  of  the  visit,  asked  in  equal  sur- 
prise, "  Is  not  Channing  buried  there  ?  "  Simi- 
larly, the  Emperor  of  Brazil,  visiting  Cambridge, 
sought  the  grave  of  Channing, —  with  whose  books 
he  was  familiar, —  and  plucked  from  a  tree  near  by 
a  memento  of  his  visit.  Yet,  when  four  years  ago 
I  visited  Bennington,  anticipating  no  difficulty  in 
finding  the  place  where  he  died,  it  was  only  after 
many  inquiries  that  a  citizen  was  found  who  had 
even  so  much  as  heard  of  Dr.  Channing ;  and  his 


222     WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING 

knowledge  appeared  to  extend  only  to  the  fact 
that  he  had  died  in  an  inn  now  known  as  the 
Walloomsac  Inn,  standing  not  far  from  the  battle 
monument,  opposite  the  ancient  church,  and  the 
cemetery  in  which  the  elder  Buckminster  lies 
buried.  The  proprietor  of  the  inn  knew  noth- 
ing of  Dr.  Channing,  and  resented  as  a  dis- 
paragement of  his  hostelry  the  assumption  that 
any  one  had  ever  died  within  its  walls.  Fortu- 
nately, however,  I  met  there  the  son  of  the  physi- 
cian who  attended  him,  of  whom  he  said,  "  A 
good  face  that,  and  a  most  kind  man."  Conse- 
quently, it  was  my  privilege  to  be  shown  the  very 
room  in  which  he  died.  Its  windows  command  a 
view  of  surpassing  beauty,  and  the  eyes  which  had 
rejoiced  from  childhood  in  the  glory  of  the  sea 
were  lifted  up  unto  the  hills  when  the  great  help 
came.  It  was  at  the  sunset  hour  which  had  al- 
ways afforded  him  serene  joy,  as  from  his  New- 
port garden  or  through  the  windows  of  his  Boston 
house  he  watched  the  dying  light  of  day  and  the 
gentle  oncoming  of  the  night.  Were  not  the 
illumined  sky  and  the  soft  outshining  of  the  stars 
on  that  placid  Sunday  in  Bennington  suggestive  of 
the  prophet's  words, —  "  They  that  are  wise  shall 
shine  as  the  firmament ;  and  they  that  turn  many 
to  righteousness  as  the  stars  forever  and  ever  "  ? 
Symbolic,  too,  was  the  death  in  a  wayside  inn. 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING     223 

since  his  eager,  truth-seeking  mind  had  tolerated 
no  permanent  abiding-place,  but  was  always  on  the 
way,  the  homeward  way  that  leadeth  ever  nearer 
to  God.  His  memory  is  a  priceless  heritage. 
May  his  spirit  abide  with  us  and  in  us  forever ! 
The  cause  for  which  he  lived  still  needs  friends. 
Tendencies  which  he  discerned  with  the  insight, 
and  deplored  with  the  sadness,  of  a  prophet  have 
strengthened  apace  :  wealth  and  power  accumulate 
in  the  hands  of  a  few,  menacing  individual  hberty 
and  opportunity;  theological  thought,  revolting 
from  the  old  Calvinism  which  he  opposed,  is  mov- 
ing with  almost  irresistible  urgency  toward  a  new 
Calvinism,  which  he  foresaw,  every  whit  as  sub- 
versive of  human  freedom;  animated  by  noble 
zeal  for  social  utility  through  denominational  effi- 
ciency, churches  build  ecclesiastical  machinery  and 
centralize  authority.  So  long  as  these  tendencies 
continue,  and  there  are  those  who  believe  in 
liberty  and  the  worth  of  the  individual  soul, 
the  words  of  Channing  will  be  timely ;  and 
those  who  would  fain  cherish  even  in  their  small 
measure  the  spirit  that  was  in  him  will  turn  often 
to  his  calm,  luminous  pages,  and  draw  strength 
and  courage  from  that  shining  soul,  always  young 
for  liberty. 


VII 

Horace  Bushnell  and  Progressive 
Orthodoxy 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  AND  PROGRES- 
SIVE ORTHODOXY. 

Nothing  could  have  brought  me  hither  to-day 
but  a  strong  sense  of  personal  obligation.  I  can 
hardly  hope  to  find  anything  new  or  important 
to  say  of  Horace  Bushnell.  The  recent  careful 
and  admirable  studies  of  his  life  and  work  have 
omitted  nothing  that  is  essential  to  a  just  under- 
standing of  who  he  was  and  what  he  did.  Mr. 
Mead's  appreciative  and  beautiful  sketch  of  him  ; 
Dr.  Munger's  critical,  sympathetic,  and  thoroughly 
adequate  discussion  of  his  theological  teachings  ; 
the  comprehensive  series  of  addresses  given  last 
June  at  the  Bushnell  Seminary  in  Hartford, —  have 
covered  the  ground.  Most  of  the  things  that  I 
could  have  wished  to  say  have  been  nobly  said 
already.  Yet,  when  this  invitation  came  to  me,  I 
could  not  decline  it ;  for  there  is  a  duty  of  per- 
sonal confession  which  no  man  can  perform  for 
another,  and  my  debt  to  Horace  Bushnell  is  too 
large  for  me  to  refuse  to  come  and  bear  my  testi- 
mony. The  little  blossom  that  I  shall  bring  to 
the  garland  which  the  years  are  weaving  will  add 
nothing  to  its  beauty,  but  it  will  not  lack  the  fra- 
grance of  grateful  memory. 


228  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

The  topic  of  this  lecture,  as  phrased  for  me,  not 
by  me,  would  be  misleading  if  it  suggested  that 
Orthodoxy  first  became  progressive  at  the  initia- 
tive or  under  the  leadership  of  Horace  Bushnell. 
When  Orthodoxy  became  progressive,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  say.  We  might  go  back  to  Edwards 
for  its  stationary  state,  but  the  biographers  will 
not  let  us  pause  there.  Edwards  himself,  they 
say,  was  a  reformer.  Professor  Allen  tells  us 
that,  in  making  the  motive  of  true  virtue  consist 
in  devotion  to  an  infinite  Being  [rather,  I  sup- 
pose, than  in  obedience  to  an  abstract  law],  he 
marks  the  first  beginnings  in  the  Calvinistic 
churches  of  a  theology  in  which  love  is  the 
central  principle  of  the  creation  and  the  law 
of  all  created  existence."  And  Professor  Fisher 
evidently  regards  Edwards's  doctrine  of  the 
Atonement  as  a  distinct  advance  upon  that 
which  had  preceded  it. 

The  theologians  following  Edwards  all  be- 
lieved themselves  to  be  progressive.  Bellamy, 
Hopkins,  Emmons,  the  younger  Edwards,  the 
elder  D wight,  all  made  "improvements"  in  the 
doctrinal  system.  The  notion  of  a  "  stationary 
state  "  in  theological  thinking  did  not  much  ob- 
tain among  New  England  thinkers.  John  Rob- 
inson's expectation  of  more  light  seems  to  have 
been  shared  by  all  of  them. 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  229 

In  the  youth  of  Horace  Bushnell  this  move- 
ment was  going  forward  with  great  vigor.     For 
his  own  part  in  it  he  was  made  ready  by  the  influ- 
ences of  his  home,  of  which  he  says ;  "  The   re- 
ligion of  the  house  was  composite, —  that  of  the 
husband,  in    his  rather  Arminian  type,  received 
from  his  mother ;  that  of  the  wife,  in  the  Epis- 
copal, from    hers;    and    that    of  the    Calvinistic 
Congregational  church,  in  which  they  were  now 
both  members.  ...  I  remember  how,  returning 
home,  after  second  service,  to  his  rather  late  din- 
ner, my  father  would  sometimes  let  the  irritation 
of  his  hunger  loose  in  harsher  words  than  were 
comphmentary    on    the    tough   predestinationism 
or   the   rather  over-total   depravity    of  the   ser- 
mon :  whereupon  he  always  encountered  a  beg- 
ging-oiF  look  from  the  other  end  of  the  table, 
which,  as  I   understood  it,  said,  '  Not, —  for  the 
sake  of  the  children.'     It  was  not  the  Calvinism 
that  she  cared  for ;  but  she  wanted  the  preacher 
himself  kept  in  respect,  for   the  benefit  of  the 
family.      In  which,  unquestionably,  she  had  the 
right  of  it."  * 

Here  was  ample  suggestion  and  warrant  for  in- 
dependent thinking,  and,  happily,  along  with  it 
the  restraint  of  a  wholesome  reverence.  Under 
these  well  co-ordinated  influences  he  passed 
through  college,  spent  a  year  in  teaching  and  in 

*Life  and  Letters  of  Horace  Bushnell,  p.  a8. 


230  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

editorial  work,  and  then  returned  to  Yale  as 
tutor.  It  was  a  religious  motive  that  had  taken 
him  to  college  at  first,  but  his  religion  did  not 
prosper  there.  Mr.  Joseph  Cook  said  on  one 
occasion  that  Bushnell  became  while  in  college  an 
infidel  of  the  Tom  Paine  variety.  That  is  prob- 
ably one  of  Mr.  Cook's  many  marvellous  ax- 
ioms :  nothing  can  be  much  farther  from  the 
truth.  Still  he  testifies  of  himself  that  his  re- 
ligious life  was  utterly  gone  down.  "  I  had  run 
to  no  dissipation,"  he  says  ;  "  I  had  been  a  church- 
goings  thoughtful  man.  My  very  difficulty  was 
that  I  was  too  thoughtful,  substituting  thought 
for  everything  else,  and  expecting  so  intently  to 
dig  out  a  religion  by  my  head  that  I  was  pushing 
it  all  the  while  practically  away."  Dr.  Munger 
correctly  diagnoses  the  case:  "  He  might  during 
this  time  be  described  as  sound  in  ethics  and  scep- 
tical in  religion.  Each  is  easily  explained.  The 
soundness  of  his  morality  was  due  to  his  nature 
and  training :  his  scepticism  was  chiefly  due  to 
the  theology  in  which  he  was  involved."  I 
should  be  inclined  to  go  a  little  further,  and  say 
that  his  scepticism  was  primarily  due  to  the 
soundness  of  his  morality.  It  was  his  ethical 
thoroughness,  more  than  anything  else,  that  made 
him  sceptical  respecting  the  doctrines  which  he 
was  expected  to  hold  and  teach. 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  231 

What  is  called  his  conversion,  or  reconversion, 
during  his  tutorship,  was  simply  the  entire  sub- 
mission of  mind  and  heart  and  will  to  the  reg- 
nancy  of  right.  He  had  tried  to  be  right  in  his 
relations  with  men,  but  he  felt  that  he  was  not 
right  with  God.  This  was  the  failure  that  came 
home  to  him.  "  Beginning,"  says  his  biographer, 
"at  the  plain  standpoint  of  conscience  and  duty, 
to  which,  in  darkest  hours  of  doubt,  he  had  ever 
stood  faithful,  he  asks  himself  the  test  question 
(which  he  afterward  gave  to  others  as  a  guide), 
*  Have  I  ever  consented  to  be,  and  am  I  really 
now,  in  the  right,  as  in  principle  and  supreme 
law  ?  to  live  for  it,  to  make  any  sacrifice  it  will 
cost  me,  to  believe  everything  that  it  will  bring 
me  to  see,  to  be  a  confessor  of  Christ  as  soon  as 
it  appears  to  be  enjoined  upon  me,  to  go  on  a 
mission  to  the  world's  end  if  due  conviction  sends 
me,  to  change  my  occupation  for  good  conscience' 
sake,  to  repair  whatever  wrong  I  have  done  to 
another,  to  be  humbled,  if  I  should,  before  my 
worst  enemy,  to  do  complete  justice  to  God^  and,  if 
I  could,  to  all  worlds, —  in  a  word,  to  be  in  wholly 
right  intent^  and  have  no  mind  but  this  forever.' 
Thus  the  simple  desire  to  be  and  do  right  was 
the  first  step.  By  the  side  of  the  moral  question, 
intellectual  doubts  appeared  unimportant  and 
were    deferred."     This    was    Horace    Bushnell's 


232  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

conversion,  and  the  result  of  it  was  that  he  turned 
from  the  study  of  the  law  and  entered  the  divinity- 
school. 

His  theological  questions  have  been  deferred. 
He  has  found  God  ;  and  in  finding  him  he  has 
been  made  sure  of  what  at  first  he  dimly  believed, 
that  "  he  is  a  right  God."  His  life  is  devoted  to 
the  study  and  the  proclamation  of  the  truth  about 
God.  And  the  principle  which  has  guided  him 
in  this  important  crisis  of  his  life  is  the  principle 
that  will  guide  him  in  all  his  theological  thinking. 
His  God  is  "a  right  God"  ;  and  the  truth  must 
be  told  about  him,  and  nothing  must  be  said  con- 
cerning him  which  implies  any  lack  of  righteous- 
ness in  him.  The  ethical  test  will  be  applied, 
then,  unflinchingly  to  theology.  If  the  theories 
of  the  lecture-room  will  not  abide  this  test,  they 
cannot  claim  his  acceptance. 

It  seems  tolerably  clear  that  they  did  not  all 
abide  this  test.  The  teaching  of  New  Haven 
Seminary  at  this  time  was  regarded  by  the  ortho- 
dox world  at  large  as  dangerously  radical.  Those 
"improvements"  of  which  I  have  spoken  had 
resulted  in  pruning  the  New  England  theology 
of  many  of  its  mediaeval  elements.  The  whole 
process  had  been  in  the  direction  of  a  more  ethi- 
cal doctrine.  What  these  "improving"  theolo- 
gians had  mainly  wanted  to  get  rid  of  were  the 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  11,2^ 

theories  which  imputed  unrighteousness  to  God. 
That  credit  must  not  be  denied  them.  Edwards's 
Doctrine  of  foreordination,  which  boldly  proclaims 
the  irresistible  efficiency  of  the  divine  decree  by 
which  men  are  made  sinners,  and  the  praeterition 
of  the  non-elect,  had  been  rejected  because  of  its 
essential  immorality ;  and  a  doctrine  less  at  war 
with  fundamental  ethical  convictions  had  taken 
its  place.  Sin,  it  was  now  held,  is  not  decreed,  but 
permitted.  The  decrees  of  God  are  not  wholly 
arbitrary :  we  must  suppose  that  his  fore-knowl- 
edge of  human  conduct  had  something  to  do  with 
them.  The  old  doctrine  that  we  are  held  re- 
sponsible for  Adam's  sin  and  could  justly  be 
punished  for  it  had  been  abandoned  for  the  same 
reason :  it  was  now  held  that  the  consequences  of 
His  sin  are  ours  by  natural  Inheritance,  but  that 
guilt  cannot  be  inherited.  Because  God  is  just,  he 
will  not  blame  us  for  the  misdeeds  of  our  ances- 
tors. These  and  other  modifications  of  the  old 
doctrine  had  already  taken  place,  greatly  to  the 
scandal  of  many  stanch  Calvinlsts  in  and  out  of 
New  England.  The  advocacy  of  these  new  views 
had  indeed  divided  the  Congregationalists  of  New 
England,  and  had  resulted  in  the  founding  of  a 
new  theological  seminary  where  the  ancient  and 
unimproved  Calvinism  was  to  be  propagated. 
So  far  as  these  changes  had  resulted  in  forms  of 


234  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

doctrine  less  repulsive  to  the  moral  sense,  Horace 
Bushnell  undoubtedly  approved  them.  But  they 
had  not  gone  far  enough.  Some  theories  were 
still  held  concerning  God  which  were  not  easily 
reconciled  with  a  belief  in  his  righteousness,  and 
toward  these  his  attitude  was  sure  to  be  one  of 
dissent. 

The  teacher  of  theology  at  New  Haven,  the 
Rev.  Nathaniel  W.  Taylor,  was  a  man  of  great 
power  as  a  metaphysician  and  as  a  preacher.  He 
had  done  what  he  could  to  eliminate  the  unmoral 
element  from  the  doctrine  which  he  taught ;  but 
there  were  still  implications  in  it  which  Bushnell 
could  not  accept ;  and  the  method  of  Taylor, 
which  enthroned  dialectics,  was  utterly  at  variance 
with  the  poetic  and  mystical  tendency  of  Bush- 
nell. Thus  the  dissent  of  Bushnell  from  the 
current  Orthodoxy  began  pretty  vigorously  in  the 
seminary,  albeit  the  Orthodoxy  with  which  he  was 
then  confronted  was  of  an  advanced  type.  We 
have  no  very  clear  account  of  the  discussions  of 
the  class-room.  Dr.  Munger  says  that  Taylor 
and  Bushnell  "were  not  within  hailing  distance, 
hardly  on  the  same  side  of  the  planet.  Hence, 
as  often  has  happened  in  New  England,  the  theo- 
logical teacher  and  his  brightest  pupil  parted 
company." 

From  the  seminary  Bushnell  was  called  to  the 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  235 

North  Church  in  Hartford, —  the  only  church  he 
ever  served.  It  was  not  long  before  his  people 
knew  that  a  man  of  power  was  among  them.  We 
have  some  of  the  sermons  that  he  preached  in 
the  first  year  of  his  ministry,  and  they  are  nota- 
ble sermons.  That  one  so  well  known  to  many 
of  us,  entitled  "  Duty  not  Measured  by  our  own 
Ability,"  must  have  given  to  the  most  mature 
and  cultivated  men  in  his  congregation  a  power- 
ful impression  of  the  intellectual  vigor  of  their 
young  minister.  Dr.  Munger  says  :  "  His  first 
volume  —  ^  Sermons  for  the  New  Life ' —  covers 
a  quarter  of  a  century  ;  but,  so  far  as  style,  thought, 
and  doctrine  go,  it  would  be  difficult  to  assign  a 
date  to  any  of  them.  That  on  *  Living  to  God 
in  Small  Things  *  was  preached  in  the  first  year 
of  his  ministry ;  and  it  might  have  been  preached 
in  the  last,  for  he  produced  none  more  mature 
and  effective.  That  on  '  Every  Man's  Life  a 
Plan  of  God  *  —  an  early  sermon  —  made  an 
impression  as  deep  and  wide  as  any  preached  in 
the  country,  with  two  or  three  exceptions." 

By  such  work  as  this  the  young  minister  soon 
made  a  place  for  himself  in  the  esteem  and  aflFec- 
tion  of  his  congregation  from  which  it  was  not 
possible  to  dislodge  him.  There  was  not  much 
controversy  in  his  earlier  years :  he  was  getting 
rooted  and  grounded  in  the  love   of  his  people. 


^36  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

The  dispute  between  the  Old  School  and  the 
New  was  raging  about  him,  but  he  did  not 
take  part  in  it.  At  New  Haven  they  suspected 
him  of  Old  School  tendencies.  The  distinction 
set  up  in  that  debate  did  not  enhst  his  interest : 
he  was  going  deeper. 

Two  or  three  of  the  public  addresses  which  he 
delivered  during  the  first  ten  years  of  his  minis- 
try are  important.  His  Phi  Beta  Kappa  oration 
at  Yale  College  in  1837,  on  "The  True  Wealth 
or  Weal  of  Nations,"  is  notable  for  the  clearness 
with  which  it  discerns  and  the  vigor  with  which 
it  exposes  the  inadequacy  of  the  pohtical  economy 
whose  interest  centres  in  commodities,  leaving  out 
of  sight  the  welfare  of  men.  There  is,"  he  says, 
"  in  the  new  science  of  political  economy,  careful 
as  it  is  in  its  method,  and  apparently  unanswera- 
ble in  its  arguments,  an  immense  oversight, 
which  is  sure  to  be  discovered  by  its  final  effects 
on  society,  and  to  quite  break  up  the  aspect  of 
reality  it  has  been  able  to  give  to  its  conclusions. 
It  deifies,  in  fact,  the  laws  of  trade,  not  observing 
that  there  is  a  whole  side  of  society  and  human 
life  which  does  not  trade,  stands  superior  to  trade, 
wields,  in  fact,  a  mightier  power  over  the  public 
prosperity  itself  just  because  it  reaches  higher  and 
connects  with  nobler  ends.  Could  these  price 
current   philosophers    only    get   a   whole  nation 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  237 

of  bankers,  brokers,  factors,  ship-owners,  and 
salesmen  to  themselves,  they  would  doubtless 
make  a  paradise  of  it  shortly,  only  the.^e  might 
possibly  be  no  public  love  in  the  paradise,  no 
manly  temperance,  no  sense  of  high  society, 
no  great  orators,  leaders,  heroes.  .  .  .  What, 
then,  it  is  time  for  us  to  ask,  is  that  wealth  of 
a  nation  which  includes  its  weal,  or  solid  well- 
being?  that  which  is  the  end  of  all  genuine 
policy  and  all  true  statesmanship?  It  consists, 
I  answer,  in  the  total  value  of  the  persons  of  the 
people.  National  wealth  is  personal,  not  material. 
It  includes  the  natural  capacity,  the  industry,  the 
skill,  the  science,  the  bravery,  the  loyalty,  the 
moral  and  religious  worth  of  the  people.  The 
wealth  of  a  nation  is  in  the  breast  of  its  sons. 
This  is  the  object  which,  according  as  it  is 
advanced,  is  sure  to  bring  with  it  riches,  justice, 
liberty,  strength,  stability,  immobility,  and  every 
other  good,  or  which,  being  neglected,  every 
sort  of  success  and  prosperity  is  but  accidental 
and  doubtful."  * 

This  was  written  and  spoken  just  twenty  years 
before  John  Ruskin's  "  Political  Economy  of 
Art,"  and  twenty-three  years  before  that  great 
chapter  on  "  The  Veins  of  Wealth  "  in  "  Unto 
this  Last."  in  which  the  same  doctrine  is  burn- 
ingly  upheld,  almost  in  the  same  words.     It  is  a 

*  Work  and  Play,  pp.  50-52. 


238  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

loud  call,  you  see,  for  the  ethicizing  and  humaniz- 
ing of  political  economy.  That  science  must 
submit  to  the  ethical  test,  not  less  than  theology. 
Nothing  that  concerns  human  kind  can  evade  that 
judgment. 

In  another  address  on  "  The  Growth  of  Law," 
delivered  before  the  alumni  of  Yale  six  years 
later,  he  strikes  a  deeper  note.  Here  he  finds  a 
law  of  moral  progress  in  history.  From  the  first 
there  are  signs  in  nature  that  "  there  is  to  be  a 
growth  of  law  and  a  growth  into  law,  and  the 
moral  imperative  is  thus  to  obtain  a  more  and 
more  nearly  spontaneous  rule  in  the  world  *' ; 
that  "  there  is  a  work  of  progressive  legislation 
continually  going  forward,  by  which  the  moral 
code  is  perfecting  itself.  .  .  .  Moral  legislation 
is,  in  fact,  one  of  the  highest  incidents  of  our  ex- 
istence. Not  that  man  here  legislates,  but  God 
through  man ;  for  it  is  not  by  any  will  of  man 
that  reason,  experience,  and  custom  are  ever  at 
work  to  make  new  laws  and  refine  upon  the  old. 
These  are  to  God  as  an  ever-smoking  Sinai  under 
his  feet ;  and,  if  there  be  much  of  dissonance  and 
seeming  confusion  in  the  cloudy  mount  of  custom, 
we  may  yet  distinguish  the  sound  of  the  trum- 
pet, and  the  tables  of  stone  we  shall  see  in  due 
time  distinctly  written,  as  by  no  human  finger."  * 

The  whole  oration  is  a  masterly  exposition  of 

*  Work  and  Play,  pp.  81,  02. 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  239 

the  great  law  of  moral  evolution.  God  is  in  his 
world,  and  Bushnell  has  found  him  here,  unfold- 
ing his  purposes  in  the  common  life  of  men. 
The  Right  to  which  he  has  owed  allegiance  is 
not,  then,  some  abstract  edict  of  a  distant  tribu- 
nal :  it  is  God,  coming  to  light  in  the  life  of  hu- 
manity. Well,  indeed,  may  the  orator  predict 
that  under  such  a  conception  the  imagination  will 
be  "  fired  by  the  vigor  of  a  faith  that  sees,  in  all 
things  visible,  vehicles  of  the  invisible,  in  every- 
thing finite  a  symbol  of  infinity.'*  How  large 
a  portion  of  Dr.  Bushnell's  most  kindling 
thought  is  flashed  out  in  this  luminous  sentence  ! 
How  far  ahead  of  his  time  his  mind  is  travelling 
in  this  great  oration  !  And  what  a  trumpet-note 
is  this  from  his  closing  words  to  his  brethren  of 
the  alumni :  "  First  of  all  let  us,  as  scholars, 
have  faith  in  the  future.  No  man  was  ever  in- 
spired through  his  memory.  The  eye  of  genius 
is  not  behind.  Nor  was  there  ever  a  truly  great 
man  whose  ideal  was  in  the  past.  The  offal  of 
history  is  good  enough  for  worms  and  monks, 
but  it  will  not  feed  a  living  man.  Power  moves 
in  the  direction  of  hope.  If  we  cannot  hope,  if 
we  see  nothing  so  good  for  history  as  to  reverse  it, 
we  shrink  from  the  destiny  of  our  race,  and  the 
curse  of  all  impotence  is  on  us.  Legions  of  men 
who  dare  not  set  their  face  the  way  that  time  is 


240  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

going  are  powerless  :  you  may  push  them  back 
with  a  straw.  They  have  lost  their  virility,  their 
soul  is  gone  out.  They  are  owls  flying  toward 
the  dawn  and  screaming,  with  dazzled  eyes,  that 
light  should  invade  their  prescriptive  and  con- 
genial darkness."  * 

It  is  the  truth  enforced  in  this  oration,  the 
truth  of  the  vital  and  organic  relation  of  God  to 
the  life  of  the  world, —  what  we  call  to-day  the 
doctrine  of  the  immanence  of  God, —  which  really 
underlies  the  first  of  Dr.  Bushnell's  treatises  that 
brought  him  under  heavy  censure,  his  *'  Christian 
Nurture."  Not  that  this  truth  was  frankly 
avowed  in  that  book :  Bushnell  had  not  yet  got 
so  far  as  that.  His  contention  "that  the  child  is 
to  grow  up  as  a  Christian,  and  never  know  him- 
self as  being  otherwise  "  ;  "  that  the  aim,  effort, 
and  expectation  should  be,  not,  as  is  commonly 
assumed,  that  the  child  is  to  grow  up  in  sin,  to 
be  converted  after  he  comes  to  a  mature  age,  but 
that  he  is  to  open  on  the  world  as  one  that  is 
spiritually  renewed," — rests,  in  his  argument, 
rather  on  the  covenant  with  the  regenerate  than 
on  the  clear  recognition  of  the  universal  Father- 
hood. Nevertheless,  his  thought  is  all  the  while 
diving  down  to  this  profounder  depth. 

"  All  society  is  organic,"  he  maintains,  "  the 
Church,  the  State,  the  school,  the  family.  .  .  .  The 

♦Work  and  Play,  p.  122. 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  241 

child  is  only  more  within  the  power  of  organic 
laws  than  we  all  are.  We  possess  only  a  mixed 
individuality  all  our  life  long.  A  pure,  separate, 
individual  man,  living  wholly  within  himself  and 
from  himself,  is  a  mere  fiction."  And  it  is  really 
because  God  is  in  his  world,  in  the  human  world, 
the  life  of  every  part  of  the  social  organism,  work- 
ing in  all  men  to  will  and  to  do  according  to  his 
good  pleasure,  that  this  doctrine  of  Christian 
nurture  is  justified.  Bushnell  felt  it  deeply,  if  he 
did  not  say  it :  he  implied  it,  if  he  did  not  fully 
express  it ;  and  his  critics  were  quite  right  in  accus- 
ing him  of  "  naturalism."  Dr.  Charles  Hodge, 
while  recognizing  much  value  in  the  book,  still 
charged  him  with  "  resolving  the  whole  matter 
into  organic  laws,  explaining  away  both  depravity 
and  grace,"  and  presenting  the  whole  subject  "  in 
a  naturalistic  attitude."  That  was  a  little  more 
than  the  truth,  but  it  was  partly  true.  Bushnell 
was  finding  God  in  organic  laws,  there  was  no 
doubt  about  that.  There  was  a  clear  prophecy 
in  its  arguments  of  that  epoch-making  treatise 
which  was  coming  by  and  by,  on  "  Nature  and 
the  Supernatural  as  together  constituting  the  one 
System  of  God." 

It  may  seem  that  what  Dr.  Bushnell  was  doing 
in''  Christian  Nurture"  and  in  "Nature  and 
the  Supernatural  "  had  no  very  close   relation   to 


242  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

that  ruling  purpose  of  his  whose  workings  we  are 
trying  to  trace.  What  did  he  do  in  these  books 
to  ethicize  theology  ?  The  relation  of  these  dis- 
cussions to  his  ethical  purpose  seems,  doubtless, 
more  remote  ;  but  it  is  not  less  real. 

The  doctrine  respecting  the  relation  of  chil- 
dren to  the  kingdom  of  heaven  which  he 
assailed  in  "  Christian  Nurture  "  was  one  whose 
ethical  complications  were  dubious.  All  these 
little  children  were  assumed  to  be,  until  their 
conversion,  in  a  state  of  nature,  which  was  a 
state  of  alienation  from  God  and  of  hostility 
to  him.  He  might  not  hold  them  guilty  of 
Adam's  sin :  that  dogma  had  been  modified 
by  the  New  Haven  theologians ;  but,  until 
their  conversion,  they  were  outside  of  his  king- 
dom of  grace.  There  were  no  legal  barriers,  per- 
haps, to  keep  them  out ;  but  they  were  out,  all  the 
same.  To  the  fatherly  love  and  care  of  God  they 
were  strangers.  The  religion  of  that  day,  as 
Dr.  Bushnell  said,  "takes  every  man  as  if  he 
Qxisttd  alone ;  presumes  that  he  is  unreconciled 
to  God  until  he  has  undergone  some  sudden  and 
explosive  experience  in  adult  years,  or  after  the 
age  of  reason  ;  demands  that  experience,  and  only 
when  it  is  reached  allows  the  subject  to  be  an 
heir  of  life.  Then,  on  the  other  side,  or  that  of 
the  Spirit  of  God,  the  very  act  or  ictus  by  which 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  243 

the  change  is  wrought  is  isolated  or  individual- 
ized, so  as  to  stand  in  no  connection  with  any 
other  of  God's  means  or  causes, —  an  epiphany, 
in  which  God  leaps  from  the  stars,  or  some  place 
above,  to  do  a  work  apart  from  all  system,  or  con- 
nection vAth  his  other  works.  Religion  is  thus 
a  kind  of  transcendental  matter,  which  belongs 
on  the  outside  of  life  and  has  no  part  in  the  laws 
by  which  life  is  organized, —  a  miraculous  epi- 
demic, a  fire-ball  shot  from  the  moon,  something 
holy,  because  it  is  from  God,  but  so  extraordinary, 
so  out  of  place,  that  it  cannot  suffer  any  vital 
connection  with  the  ties  and  causes  and  forms 
and  habits  which  constitute  the  frame  of  our 
history."  * 

All  this  theory  which  Bushnell  is  impaling  falls 
in  with  the  conception  of  religion  as  having  a 
compartment  all  to  itself  in  our  lives,  as  being 
a  wholly  separate  interest  from  our  other  affairs. 
That  conception  is  sure  to  issue  in  a  defective 
morality.  And  what  shall  be  said  of  the  char- 
acter of  a  God  who  leaves  the  Httle  children  of  our 
homes  to  be  practically  orphans, —  in  their  spirit- 
ual relations, —  destitute  of  a  heavenly  Father's 
care  until  they  have  grown  old  enough  to  pass 
through  the  ordeal  of  conversion  ?  It  is  not 
true  of  the  best  earthly  parents  that  they  maintain 
a  waiting  attitude  toward  their  children,  holding 

*  Christian  Nurture,  p.  187. 


244  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

back  tenderness  and  loving  kindness  until  the 
children  are  old  enough  to  ask  for  it.  It  would 
seem  that  the  heavenly  Father  must  love  the 
little  children  in  the  days  when  their  conscious- 
ness is  dawning  as  much  as  we  love  them  then, 
and  must  want  them  to  know  it. 

I  do  not  want  to  try  to  tell  just  what  the  atti- 
tude of  God  toward  the  unconverted  children  was 
believed  to  be  in  that  theology  which  Dr.  Bush- 
nell  was  repudiating  in  "  Christian  Nurture,"  and 
which  rose  up  to  denounce  his  teaching  as  dan- 
gerous :  I  am  afraid  that  I  could  not  make  any 
statements  about  it  which  would  not  seem  unjust 
to  those  who  held  it ;  but  it  certainly  seems  to 
me  that  the  God  whom  that  theology  assumed 
was  a  being  of  a  very  defective  character.  He 
was  not  what  Dr.  Bushnell  would  call  "  a  right 
God  "  :  he  did  not  deal  with  the  little  children  of 
our  homes  in  a  way  that  satisfies  our  notions  of 
justice ;  for  we  have  learned  to  believe  that  love 
is  a  debt  owed  by  every  moral  being  to  every 
other  moral  being,  and  that  he  who  fails  to  re- 
ceive love  gets  less  than  is  due  him.  The  only 
explanation  which  that  old  theory  could  offer  of 
God's  relation  to  unconverted  children  must  have 
involved  the  idea  that  his  goodness  is  different 
in  kind  from  our  goodness,  and  that  is  the  es- 
sence of  the  worst  immorality.     The  only  reply 


HORACE  BUSHNELL 


245 


to  that  is  Mill's  indignant  outburst :  "  I  will  call 
no  being  good  who  is  not  good  in  the  sense  in 
which  I  apply  that  term  to  my  fellow-men  ;  and,  if 
such  a  being  sends  me  to  hell  for  not  loving  him, 
to  hell  I  will  go."  The  fact  that  such  a  concep- 
tion of  God  underlay  this  doctrine  was  the  real 
reason  why  Bushnell  made  war  upon  it :  it  was 
his  ethical  thoroughness  that  found  voice  in 
this  revolutionary  treatise. 

I  think,  also,  that  the  Rev.  Charles  E.  Mc- 
Kinley  is  entirely  right  in  saying  that  Bushnell's 
conception  of  the  whole  matter  of  religion  in  the 
family  "  was  so  strange,  so  foreign  to  current 
modes  of  thought,  that  a  complete  new  doctrine 
of  the  Spirit's  methods  of  activity  was  necessary. 
The  positions  taken  in  '  Christian  Nurture '  made 
the  work  on  '  Nature  and  the  Supernatural '  im- 
perative. Some  total  reconstruction  of  the  con- 
ception of  the  relation  of  the  human  world  with 
its  vital  forces  to  the  divine  world  had  to  be  under- 
taken. Is  human  nature  part  of  a  spiritual 
province,  the  scene  of  the  spirit's  constant  activi- 
ties, or  is  it  alien  territory,  to  be  invaded  now  and 
then  for  purposes  of  grace  from  some  celestial 
stronghold?"  This  was  the  question  which 
"  Nature  and  the  Supernatural  "  undertook  to 
answer  ;  and  the  writer  from  whom  I  have  just 
quoted    goes   on    to    say,    in  words    that   are    as 


246  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

true  as  they  are  beautiful :  "  Bushnell  has  com- 
pelled us,  in  theory  at  least, —  and  theory  and 
practice  are  not  always  contrary, —  to  make  for 
the  Holy  Spirit  a  dwelling-place  in  the  homes  of 
men,  where  he  may  come,  not  now  and  then  as  a 
heavenly  stranger,  to  work  a  miracle  of  grace, 
but  as  a  familiar  Presence  to  abide,  working  daily 
in  us  and  ours  what  is  well-pleasing  unto  God. 
In  our  New  England  firmament  the  author  of 
this  doctrine  of  Christian  nurture  was  the  morn- 
ing star  of  that  glad  new  day  when  joyous  faith 
should  realize  once  more  that  God  is  in  his  world ; 
that  heavenly  grace  comes  into  human  lives  on 
the  common  ray  of  daily  sunshine  as  well  as  on 
the  lightning's  blinding  flash,  while  the  very  at- 
mosphere about  us  is  charged  with  holy  energies, 
because,  *  Now  are  we  the  children  of  God.'  "  * 

But  the  work  for  which  Dr.  Bushnell  is  best 
known  lies  in  another  field  of  thought.  His 
name  to  the  theological  world  is  most  identified 
with  his  teachings  respecting  the  redeeming  work 
of  Christ.  "  Bushnellism,"  as  a  term  of  reproach, 
as  a  badge  of  heresy,  describes  a  theory  of  what 
Jesus  Christ  has  done  to  save  men  from  their 
sins. 

In  their  attempts  to  "improve"  the  Calvinis- 
tic  theology  the  New  England  theologians  had 
not    neglected    the    doctrine    of  the  Atonement. 

*  Bushnell  Centenary,  pp.  109,  no. 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  247 

Attempts  in  that  direction  were  made  at  a  very 
early  day.  William  Pynchon,  the  founder  of 
Springfield,  was  constrained  by  his  ethical  in- 
stincts to  challenge  the  doctrine  prevailing  in  his 
time  ;  and  he  wrote  a  treatise  on  "  The  Meritorious 
Price  of  our  Redemption/'  which  he  sent  over  to 
England  to  have  printed.  The  authorities  of  the 
"  Great  and  General  Court "  of  Massachusetts 
got  wind  of  this  heresy  which  was  sprouting  in  the 
distant  wilds  of  Agawam,  and  they  determined  to 
nip  it  in  the  bud.  A  theological  quarantine  was 
decreed,  incoming  ships  were  watched,  the  con- 
signment of  books  to  Pynchon  was  seized  on  its 
arrival  at  the  wharf  and  taken  to  the  theological 
pest-house,  and  after  examination  the  books  were 
publicly  burned  here  on  Boston  Common.  Dr. 
Bushnell  had  an  impression,  I  think,  that  the 
heresy  of  Pynchon  was  akin  to  his  own,  but  it 
was  nothing  of  the  kind :  the  heresy  of  Pynchon 
was  rock-ribbed  Orthodoxy,  even  as  compared 
with  the  later  New  England  doctrine  against 
which  Dr.  Bushnell  protested.  The  heresy  of 
Pynchon  consisted  merely  in  denying  that  Christ 
suffered  the  actual  pains  of  hell  in  his  conscience. 
He  did  not  deny  the  principle  of  legal  substitu- 
tion :  his  theory,  as  the  title  of  his  book  implies, 
was  a  kind  of  commercial  theory ;  but  his  moral 
sense  revolted  against  the  notion  that  the  Son  of 


248  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

man  was  tormented  with  remorse  on  account  of 
the  sin  of  the  world.  That  was  why  they  burned 
his  book  on  Boston  Common. 

There  was  need  enough  that  New  England 
Calvinism  should  be  "improved  "in  this  particu- 
lar theory,  and  the  work  had  been  going  on  from 
Pynchon's  day.  Edwards  introduced  some  valu- 
able mitigations  into  its  rigidity,  and  others  who 
followed  him  had  helped  in  the  same  direc- 
tion. The  doctrine  of  a  limited  atonement  had 
been  abandoned  ;  it  was  now  believed  that  Christ 
died  for  all  men,  and  not  merely  for  the  elect  j 
and  the  New  Haven  theologians  had  accepted  the 
Grotian  theory  that  the  sufferings  of  Christ  were 
not  penal,  not  intended  to  appease  the  wrath 
of  God,  not  legally  substituted  for  the  pen- 
alties due  to  men,  but  rather  meant  to  be  such  an 
exhibition  of  God's  abhorrence  of  sin  as  would 
satisfy  his  general  justice,  and  permit  him,  with- 
out endangering  his  government,  to  forgive  pen- 
itent sinners.  It  must  be  admitted  that  this 
"governmental"  scheme  is  one  of  the  weakest 
pieces  of  theological  casuistry  that  logic  has  ever 
invented.  It  was  meant,  of  course,  to  eliminate 
the  doctrine  of  the  legal  substitution  of  the  inno- 
cent for  the  guilty,  the  immorality  of  which  had 
been  strongly  felt.  To  say  that  God  inflicts  the 
penalty  due  to  the  sinner  upon  the  Saviour,  and  so 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  249 

frees  the  sinner  from  guilt,  seems  a  monstrous 
proposition ;  to  say  that  God's  justice  is  satisfied 
by  such  a  substitution  is  a  horrible  imputation  upon 
him.  The  New  England  theologians  recoiled 
from  the  theory,  but  they  could  not  rid  themselves 
of  the  idea  that  there  was  something  judicial  in 
the  transaction.  In  handling  this  matter,  they 
were  grievously  embarrassed,  wavering  often  be- 
tween affirmation  and  denial.  I  remember  not 
very  many  years  ago  hearing  Mr.  Joseph  Cook, 
in  a  lecture  on  the  Misrepresentations  of  Ortho- 
doxy, say  in  a  very  impressive  way  :  "  Orthodoxy 
is  misrepresented  as  teaching  that  the  sufferings 
of  Christ  were  penal.  They  were  not  penal. 
They  were  a  sacrificial  chastisement,  in  some  sense 
penal,''  Orthodoxy  which  wobbles  like  that  is  in 
danger  of  being  misunderstood.  Orthodoxy  was 
trying,  no  doubt,  to  be  ethical ;  but  it  was  mak- 
ing a  bad  failure  of  it.  The  Judge  of  all  the 
earth  was  represented  by  it  as  saying,  in  effect,  to 
the  sinner:  "It  would  endanger  my  government 
if  I  should  forgive  you  without  inflicting  suffering 
on  some  one.  I  must  express  my  abhorrence  of 
sin.  I  have  therefore  chosen  an  innocent  victim. 
When  you  witness  the  suffering  which  I  inflict  on 
him,  you  will  have  such  an  impression  made  upon 
your  mind  of  my  hatred  of  sin  as  shall  enable  me 
to  forgive  you."     It  would  seem  that  there  might 


250  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

be  some  confusion  in  the  mind  of  the  sinner  as  to 
the  exact  ethical  significance  of  such  a  procedure. 
It  would  be  hard  to  invent  a  theory  by  which 
ethical  distinctions  would  be  worse  confounded. 
Surely,  the  deity  to  whom  such  principles  of  action 
can  be  imputed  is  not  the  "  right  God  "  to  whom 
Bushnell's  allegiance  is  vowed.  It  was  to  main- 
tain the  justice  and  honor  of  the  God  whom  he 
loved  and  worshipped  that  he  lifted  up  his  voice 
in  protest  against  the  current  theories  of  the 
atonement. 

It  was  in  the  year  1848,  when  Europe  was 
seething  with  revolution  and  a  wave  of  awaken- 
ing thought  was  passing  over  the  human  mind, 
that  Dr.  Bushnell's  thoughts  were  kindled  upon 
this  great  theme.  In  February  of  that  year  he 
passed  through  one  of  those  experiences  which 
are  vouchsafed  to  prophets, —  what  seemed  to  him 
a  mystical  unveiling  of  the  real  meaning  of  the 
message  which  had  been  given  to  him  to  deliver. 
It  came  to  him  in  the  watches  of  the  night.  Mrs. 
Bushnell  tells  us  of  it:  *^  On  an  early  morning  in 
February  his  wife  awoke  to  hear  that  the  light 
they  had  waited  for,  more  than  they  that  watch 
for  the  morning,  had  risen  indeed.  She  asked, 
'What  have  you  seen?'  He  replied,  'The 
gospel.'  It  came  to  him  at  last,  after  all  his 
thought  and  study,   not  as  something    reasoned 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  251 

out,  but  as  an  inspiration, —  a  revelation  from  the 
mind  of  God  himself"  It  is  not  rare  for  God 
thus  to  give  his  best  gifts  to  his  beloved  in  their 
sleep.  In  those  subconscious  moments  which 
follow  a  wrestling  with  some  great  theme,  the 
truth  so  long  sought  swims  into  the  seeker's  ken, 
and  what  was  long  opaque  is  transparent  as  crys- 
tal. It  was  a  great  moment  in  Bushnell's  life. 
"  I  seemed,"  he  said,  "to  pass  a  boundary.  I 
had  never  been  very  legal  in  my  Christian  life ; 
but  now  I  passed  from  those  partial  seeings, 
glimpses,  and  doubts  into  a  clearer  knowledge  of 
God  and  into  his  inspirations  which  I  have 
never  wholly  lost.  The  change  was  into  faith,— 
a  sense  of  the  freeness  of  God  and  the  ease  of 
approach  to  him." 

Here  was  the  vision,  and  the  tasks  were  not 
far  away.  Three  theological  seminaries,  Cam- 
bridge, Andover,  New  Haven,  almost  simulta- 
neously invited  him  to  give  their  commencement 
addresses.  The  invitations  were  promptly  ac- 
cepted ;  and  the  three  great  addresses  which  were 
afterward  grouped  in  his  volume,  "  God  in  Christ," 
were  delivered, —  the  one  on  the  Atonement,  at 
Cambridge  Divinity  School,  July  9 ;  the  one  on 
the  Divinity  of  Christ,  involving  his  theory 
of  the  Trinity,  at  New  Haven,  August  15  ;  the 
one  on  Dogma  and  Spirit,  at  Andover,  in 
Septem.ber. 


252  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Dr.  Bushnell  en- 
tered upon  these  great  tasks  in  a  polemical  temper. 
Far  from  him  was  any  such  purpose.  What  he 
most  devoutly  wished  was  that  he  might  so  in- 
terpret the  great  truths  v/ith  which  he  was  deal- 
ing as  to  win  for  them  the  consent  of  all  to 
whom  he  spoke.  If  he  exposed  what  he  regarded 
as  the  inadequacy  of  existing  views,  it  was  that 
he  might  present  more  intelligible  and  more  in- 
spiring theories.  His  spirit  in  all  this  work  was 
irenic  and  comprehensive.  The  controversy 
which  followed  was  not  of  his  desiring. 

Yet  the  testimony  must  be  clear  respecting  the 
unsound  morality  of  the  theories  which  he  is 
seeking  to  supplant.  As  to  the  Old  School  the- 
ories of  the  atonement,  which  represent  Christ 
as  suffering  the  penalty  of  the  law  in  our  stead, 
he  says,  in  his  Cambridge  address  :  "  They  are 
capable,  one  and  all,  of  no  light  in  which  they  do 
not  even  offend  some  right  moral  sentiment  of 
our  being.  Indeed,  they  raise  up  moral  objec- 
tions with  such  marvellous  fecundity  that  we  can 
hardly  state  them  as  fast  as  they  occur  to  us. 
Thus,  if  one  evil  or  pain  must  be  repaid  by  an 
equivalent,  what  real  economy  is  there  in  the 
transaction  ?  What  is  effected  save  the  transfer 
of  penal  evil  from  the  guilty  to  the  innocent  ? 
And  if  the  great  Redeemer,  in  the  excess  of  his 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  2S3 

goodness,  consents,  freely  offers  himself  to  the 
Father,  or  to  God,  to  receive  the  penal  woes,  or 
some  sufficient  part  of  the  penal  woes,  of  the 
world  in  his  person,  what  does  it  signify,  when 
that  offer  is  accepted,  but  that  God  will  have  his 
modicum  of  suffering  somehow, —  if  he  lets  the 
guilty  go,  will  yet  satisfy  himself  out  of  the 
innocent?  In  which  the  divine  government,  in- 
stead of  clearing  itself,  assumes  the  double  igno- 
miny, first,  of  letting  the  guilty  go,  and,  sec- 
ondly, of  accepting  the  sufferings  of  innocence. 
In  which  Calvin,  seeing  no  difficulty,  is  still  able 
to  say,  when  arguing  for  Christ's  three  days  in 
hell,  *  It  was  requisite  that  he  should  feel  the 
severity  of  the  divine  vengeance,  in  order  to  ap- 
pease the  wrath  of  God  and  satisfy  his  justice/ 
I  confess  my  inability  to  read  this  kind  of  lan- 
guage without  a  sensation  of  horror."  * 

The  New  School  theory,  which  teaches  that  God 
expresses  his  abhorrence  of  sin  by  the  sufferings 
inflicted  on  Christ,  he  thus  challenges :  "  I  con- 
fess my  Inability  to  see  how  an  innocent  being 
could  ever  be  set,  even  for  one  moment,  in  the 
attitude  of  displeasure  under  God.  If  he  could 
lay  his  frown  for  one  moment  on  the  soul  of  in- 
nocence and  virtue,  he  must  be  no  such  being 
as  I  have  loved  and  worshipped.  .  .  .  Does  any 
one  say  that  he    will   do    it  for  public  govern- 

*God  in  Christ,  pp.  195,  196. 


254 


HORACE  BUSHNELL 


mental  reasons?  No  governmental  reasons,  I 
answer,  can  justify  even  the  admission  of  inno- 
cence into  a  participation  of  frowns  and  penal 
distributions.  If  consenting  innocence  says,  '  Let 
the  blow  fall  on  me,'  precisely  then  is  it  for  a 
government  to  prove  its  justice,  even  to  the 
point  of  sublimity ;  to  reveal  the  essential,  eter- 
nal, unmitigable  distinction  it  holds  between  in- 
nocence and  sin,  by  declaring  that,  as  under  law 
and  its  distributions,  it  is  even  impossible  to 
suffer  any  commutation,  any  the  least  confusion 
of  places.'*  * 

As  to  the  illustrations  of  this  theory  which 
were  sometimes  attempted  to  be  drawn  from 
human  governments,  he  makes  short  work  of 
them.  "  If  Zaleucus,  for  example,  instead  of 
enforcing  the  statute  against  his  son  which  re- 
quired the  destruction  of  both  his  eyes,  thinks 
to  satisfy  the  law  by  putting  out  one  of  his 
own  eyes  and  one  of  his  son's,  he  only  practises 
a  very  unintelligent  fraud  upon  the  law,  under 
pretext  of  a  conscientiously,  literal  enforcement 
of  it.  The  statute  did  not  require  the  loss  of 
two  eyes  :  if  it  had,  the  two  eyes  of  a  dog  would 
have  sufficed  ;  but  it  required  the  two  eyes  of 
the  criminal, —  that  he,  as  a  wrong-doer,  should 
be  put  into  darkness.  If  the  father  had  con- 
sented to  have  both  his  own  eyes    put  out  in- 

*God  in  Christ,  p.  199. 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  255 

stead  of  his  son's,  it  might  have  been  very  kind 
of  him;  but  to  speak  of  it  as  public  justice, 
or  as  any  proper  vindication  of  law,  would  be 
impossible.  The  real  truth  signified  would  be 
that  Zaleucus  loved  public  justice  too  little,  in 
comparison  with  his  exceeding  fondness  for  his 
son,  to  let  the  law  have  its  course,  and  yet,  as  if 
the  law  stood  upon  getting  two  eyes,  apart  from 
all  justice,  too  many  scruples  to  release  his  sin, 
without  losing  the  two  eyes  of  his  body  as  he  had 
before  lost  the  eyes   of  his  reason. 

"According  to  the  supposition,  the  problem 
here  is  to  produce  an  expression  of  abhorrence 
to  sin,  through  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  in  place 
of  another,  through  the  sufferings  of  the  guilty. 
Now  the  truth  of  the  latter  expression  consists 
in  the  fact  that  there  is  an  abhorrence  in  God 
to  be  expressed.  But  there  is  no  such  abhorrence 
in  God  toward  Christ ;  and,  therefore,  if  the  ex- 
ternal expression  of  Christ's  sufferings  has  no 
correspondent  feeling  to  be  expressed,  where 
lies  the  truth  of  the  expression.?  And,  if  the 
frown  of  God  lies  upon  his  soul,  as  we  often 
hear,  in  the  garden  and  on  the  cross,  how  can 
the  frown  of  God,  falling  on  the  soul  of  inno- 
cence, express  any  truth  or  any  feeling  of  jus- 
tice ? "  * 

There  it  is  !     The  essential  immorality  of  that 

*God  in  Christ,  pp.  199,  200. 


2s6  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

doctrine  of  judicial  substitution  is  touched  with 
the  spear  of  Ithuriel,  and  what  is  uncovered  will 
never  again  be  hidden.  The  one  thing  to  which 
Orthodoxy  had  clung  was  the  idea  that  there  was 
a  judicial  element  in  this  transaction  ;  that  suffer- 
ing (you  need  not  call  it  penalty)  was  inflicted 
by  the  Father  upon  the  Son  to  satisfy  the  ends 
of  general  justice.  That  position  Bushnell 
stormed,  and  carried.  This  was  his  heresy, — 
this  explicit  and  unflinching  denial  that  there 
could  be  in  a  just  government  any  such  thing 
as  a  judicial  substitution  of  the  innocent  for  the 
guilty.  The  vicariousness  of  love,  the  identifica- 
tion of  the  Saviour  with  the  sinner  which  involves 
the  Saviour  in  the  woes  and  pains  of  the  sinner, 
all  this  he  mightily  affirmed ;  but  that  the  Father 
in  heaven  inflicted  judicial  pains  upon  his  well- 
beloved  Son  in  order  that  he  might  pardon  guilty 
men, —  this  conception  he  smote  with  the  wrath, 
of  the  great  love  that  was  kindled  in  his  soul 
on  that  February  midnight.  The  motive  that 
inspired  him  was  his  passionate  sense  of  the 
divine  justice,  his  determination  to  preach  none 
other  than  a  right  God, —  a  God  whose  judg- 
ments would  commend  themselves  to  every 
man's  conscience.  It  was  this,  and  nothing 
else,  that  made  him  a  heretic.  This  was  the  way 
by  which  he  went  forth  from  the   Congregational 


HORACE  BUSHNELL 


57 


camp,  bearing  the  reproach  of  Christ.  For,  al- 
though he  was  not  formally  cast  out  of  fellow- 
ship, there  were  for  him  after  this  many  lonely 
years  when  not  one  of  his  Congregational  breth- 
ren in  Hartford  would  exchange  pulpits  with 
him,  when  his  presence  in  any  ecclesiastical 
assembly  was  thought  to  bring  a  sort  of  con- 
tagion, and  when  many  hard  and  false  things 
were  continually  said  of  him.  Fast  friends  he 
had  through  all  these  years,  even  among  Con- 
gregational ministers  ;  but  they  were  few. 

I  will  not  enter  into  the  details  of  the  trial 
through  which  he  was  now  forced  to  go.  His 
own  Association  of  ministers  called  him  to  account 
for  heresy,  and,  after  a  long  and  patient  exami- 
nation of  his  teachings,  concluded  that,  although 
they  were  not  in  accordance  with  the  current 
Orthodoxy,  the  divergence  was  not  so  great  but 
that  he  might  be  tolerated.  That  verdict  was 
not  satisfactory  to  others  outside  of  his  Asso- 
ciation, and  an  attempt  was  soon  made  in  the 
State  Association  to  deal  with  the  local  Associa- 
tion because  of  its  tenderness  toward  him.  Thus 
began  a  long  series  of  endeavors  to  get  him  out 
of  the  fellowship  and  to  have  his  doctrines  con- 
demned and  his  name  erased  from  the  list  of 
Congregational  ministers.  These  attempts  were 
not  successful ;  but  the  result  of  all  this  was  to 


258  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

make  him  an  object  of  suspicion,  and  to  withdraw 
from  him  almost  wholly  the  sympathy  and  per- 
sonal friendship  of  the  great  majority  of  his 
brethren  in  the  ministry.  In  1867,  after  he  had 
laid  down  the  pastorate,  when  he  was  an  old  man 
and  broken,  I  invited  him  to  come  to  North 
Adams,  and  preach  the  sermon  at  my  installa- 
tion. His  answer  was  a  caution,  most  kindly 
intended.  It  would  not  be  politic  for  me  to 
have  him  there :  I  might  be  compromised  by 
the  report  that  I  was  his  friend.  It  was  quite 
true :  even  then  the  brand  of  the  heretic  was 
upon  him;  and,  although  he  was  respectfully 
treated  by  the  council  which  then  assembled,  it 
was  evident  that  suspicion  of  him  was  still  alive 
in  the  hearts  of  his  brethren. 

This  was  not  due  to  any  bad  spirit  which  he 
had  shown  ;  for,  as  all  do  testify,  he  bore  himself, 
under  the  attacks  which  were  made  upon  him  in 
the  ecclesiastical  bodies,  with  meekness  and  wis- 
dom. Respecting  the  most  exciting  of  these 
meetings,  one  minister  says,  "  Of  Dr.  BushnelFs 
bearing  and  spirit  I  can  only  recall  the  general 
impression  that  he  showed  a  calm,  dignified. 
Christian  spirit,  and  wonderfully  maintained  his 
self-poise."  Another  says :  "  Dr.  Bushnell  bore 
it  patiently  and  cheerfully ;  but  there  were  times 
when    he    appeared  depressed,    and    keenly    felt 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  259 

the  want  of  confidence  his  ministerial  brethren 
evinced  in  their  intercourse  with  him." 

All  this,  let  us  not  forget,  was  for  simply  and 
resolutely  contending  that  the  Judge  of  all  the 
earth  will  do  right,  and  that  no  conduct  can  be 
imputed  to  him  which  involves  injustice. 

Dr.  Bushnell's  heresies  respecting  the  Trinity 
as  developed  in  the  New  Haven  address,  sprung 
from  the  same  source.  The  chief  theological 
value  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  as  maintained 
by  Calvinistic  teachers,  was  to  furnish  the  dramatis 
fersona  for  the  doctrine  of  the  atonement.  For 
that  forensic  transaction  there  must  be  distinct 
consciousnesses  and  wills  in  the  godhead  :  the 
consciousness  and  will  of  the  Judge  and  Punisher 
must  be  different  from  those  of  the  substitution- 
ary victim.  In  the  speculations  about  this  trans- 
action the  language  of  the  theologians  often  de- 
generate into  stark  tritheism,  as  in  Edwards's 
treatise  on  the  Trinity,  in  which  he  constantly 
speaks  of  the  three  "  persons  *'  of  the  godhead 
as  "  they,*'  and  tells  in  the  most  circumstantial 
way  how,  in  the  councils  of  eternity,  "  they  ''  con- 
ferred and  arranged  together  about  how  the  work 
of  redemption  should  be  carried  on.  Against  all 
the  conceptions  which  involved  such  a  notion  as 
this,  or  covertly  implied  it,  Bushnell's  intellect 
as  well  as  his  moral  sense  was  at  war.     He  saw 


26o  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

that  any  proper  view  of  the  unity  of  the  godhead 
would  make  the  forensic  explanations  of  the 
atonement  incredible  ;  and  that  was  one  reason 
why  he  sought  to  replace  the  tritheistic  trinity  by 
a  trinity  of  revelation,  which  held  for  him  the 
practical  truths  by  which  his  faith  was  nourished, 
and  avoided  the  contradictions  which  the  other 
doctrine  presented  both  to  reason  and  to  faith. 

I  am  not  concerned  to  maintain  that  Bushnell 
gave  us  the  final  statement  either  of  the  doctrine 
of  the  vicarious  sacrifice  or  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity.  What  I  desire  to  point  out  is  that  he 
eliminated  the  elements  in  those  doctrines  which 
were  an  offence  to  the  moral  sense  of  men,  and 
made  possible  a  reconstruction  of  theology  upon 
a  better  foundation  and  in  harmony  with  the 
ethical  convictions  and  the  spiritual  needs  of 
men.  My  own  belief  is  that  much  of  the  con- 
structive work  that  he  did  is  also  very  valuable. 
Not  only  in  "  Christian  Nuture  "  and  in  "  Nature 
and  the  Supernatural,"  but  in  his  two  books  on 
the  Atonement,  there  are  interpretations  of  the 
spiritual  laws  which  will  remain  as  permanent 
contributions  to  Christian  thought.  I  doubt 
whether  any  American  of  the  last  century  has 
enriched  Christian  philosophy  with  a  larger  num- 
ber of  vital  and  fruitful  suggestions. 

Of  all  this  I  can  say  nothing.     I    have  only 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  261 

tried  to  show  how  valiantly  he  battled  for  a 
"right  God,"  how  faithfully  he  kept  the  knightly 
vow  he  made  in  the  hour  of  his  conversion, —  to 
believe  in  none  but  a  righteous  God,  and  to  be 
faithful  to  him  forever. 

I  should  be  guilty  of  a  great  omission  if  I  left 
the  impression  that  Bushnell  was  the  only  Chris- 
tian teacher  on  this  continent  who  bore  witness 
against  those  special  immoralities  of  theology 
with  which  his  name  is  linked.  The  Unitarian 
protest  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  last  century  was 
mainly  a  protest  against  these  very  immoralities. 
The  metaphysical  questions  involved  were  by  no 
means  the  crucial  questions.  What  Dr.  Chan- 
ning  and  his  associates  were  most  concerned  to 
secure  was  a  moral  theology, —  a  theology  which 
did  not  offend  their  deepest  ethical  convictions 
by  requiring  them  to  ascribe  to  God  principles 
of  action  which  they  believed  to  be  unrighteous. 
Dr.  Munger  says  :  "  The  immediate  source  of  the 
movement  was  a  reaction  against  the  inhumanity 
of  Hopkins  and  Emmons,  or  more  generally 
against  Calvinism,  however  presented.  In  short, 
the  movement  was  not  theological,  but  humani- 
tarian, and  was  incorrectly  named."  And  Dr. 
Gordon,  in  words  that  are  familiar,  but  that  be- 
long here,  testifies,  "  Against  a  Trinitarianism 
that  was  Tritheism,  in  opposition  to  a  view  of  the 


262  HORACE  BUSHNELL 

person  of  Christ  that  slighted  his  humanity  and 
dishonored  the  Eternal  Father,  in  the  face  of 
opinions  that  made  history  godless  and  terrible, 
that  construed  salvation  as  outward,  forensic, 
mechanical,  that  regarded  religion  as  alien  to  the 
nature  of  man,  at  war  with  the  intellectual  and 
moral  wealth  of  the  world, —  the  Unitarian  pro- 
test was  wholesome,  magnificent,  providential.'' 

It  is  evident,  then,  that  the  Unitarians  had 
been  fighting  the  same  battle  that  Bushnell  was 
fighting ;  and  it  is  more  than  probable  that,  if  the 
dogmas  against  which  he  began  his  warfare  in 
1848  had  been  modified  a  generation  sooner,  the 
division  of  the  Congregational  body  would  never 
have  taken  place.  We  all  honor  to-day  the 
fidelity  to  their  ethical  convictions  of  the  men 
who  went  out  from  the  Congregational  camp ; 
but  some  of  us  deeply  deplore  the  separation. 
Always,  in  such  a  rupture,  not  only  is  love  put 
to  shame,  but  truth  suffers  :  each  party  magnifies 
out  of  due  proportion  the  points  for  which  it 
contends,  and  is  wont  to  close  its  mind  against 
the  essential  truths  which  are  held  by  its  antago- 
nist. The  Orthodox  and  the  Unitarians  have 
both  suffered  in  their  way :  each  party  has  made 
more  than  was  profitable  of  the  tenets  which  it 
has  held  as  against  the  other ;  each  has  been  im- 
poverished by  rejecting  precious  elements  cher- 
ished by  the  other. 


HORACE  BUSHNELL  26;^ 

I  wonder  if  we  have  not  nearly  come  to  the 
point  at  which  the  weapons  of  controversy  can  be 
laid  aside  and  the  spirit  of  criticism  give  place  to 
the  spirit  of  appreciation ;  at  which  the  desire  to 
magnify  the  things  wherein  we  agree,  and  to  dis- 
cover, each  in  the  treasure  of  the  other,  that 
which  we  can  appropriate  and  use,  shall  make  us 
brethren  in  deed,  if  not  in  name.  If  such  a 
spiritual  friendship  should  bring  into  closer  and 
more  helpful  relations  the  two  branches  of  our 
Congregational  brotherhood,  I  cannot  but  feel 
that  good  would  come  to  both  of  them  and  to 
the  kingdom  of  the  truth.  Surely,  we  need  not 
fear  that  in  such  a  loving  endeavor  to  understand 
one  another  and  help  one  another  anything  really 
precious  would  be  lost ;  for  it  must  be  that,  when 
we  are  working  and  praying  together  and  bearing 
one  another's  burdens,  we  are  more  likely  to  find 
out  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  than  when  we  are 
engaged  in  criticism  or  controversy.  And,  if  the 
spirit  of  peace  and  concord  should  lead  us  into 
closer  friendship  with  each  other  and  with  the 
Lord  whose  name  we  bear,  we  shall  all  confess 
that  no  one  has  done  more  than  Horace  Bush- 
nell  to  make  possible  such  a  consummation. 


VIII 

Hosea  Ballou  and  the  Larger  Hope 


HOSEA  BALLOU   AND   THE  LARGER 
HOPE. 

"  How  is  it,"  Sir  James  Mackintosh  was  once 
asked  by  a  student  of  English  politics,  "  that  I 
never  hear  a  word  about  the  blessings  of  liberty 
and  the  glory  of  the  British  Constitution  in  your 
debates  ?  "  "  Because,"  was  the  reply,  "  we  take 
all  that  for  granted."  So,  if  one  turns  to  the 
utterances  of  those  who  broke  with  the  ortho- 
doxy of  the  eighteenth  century  in  asserting  the 
final  victory  of  good  over  evil,  he  will  find  in 
them  comparatively  little  in  defence  of  the  right 
to  religious  liberty  and  freedom  of  thought  and 
of  conscience.  The  pioneers  of  the  larger  hope 
were  also  pioneers  of  religious  liberty  in  America. 
But  they  said  little  about  it,  because  they  be- 
lieved so  much  in  it.  They  took  all  that  for 
granted.  They  were  so  absorbed  in  the  procla- 
mation of  the  truth  they  were  called  to  declare 
that  they  had  neither  the  time  nor  the  mind  to 
discuss  their  right  to  utter  it.  They  wasted  no 
words  in  arguing  their  right  to  proclaim  the 
larger  vision  and  the  higher  truth.  They  broke 
through  the  theological  bounds,  took  possession 
of  the  new  ground,  and  went  to  work  to  clear  it 


268  HOSEA  BALLOU 

up  for  permanent  occupancy.  Their  brave  self- 
assertion  was  in  itself  the  largest  sort  of  victory 
for  liberty.  While  others  took  to  dissenting 
about  liberty,  they  took  the  liberty  of  dissenting. 
They  ignored  all  protests,  threats,  anathemas, 
and  went  straight  about  their  task  of  opening  up 
a  theological  territory  wide  enough  to  take  their 
stand  on  the  love  and  fatherhood  of  God,  and  its 
assurance  of  good  to  the  whole  family  of  man- 
kind. .  They  led  the  pioneer's  life ;  and  their  lot 
was  one  of  spiritual  privation  and  intellectual 
loneliness,  with  few  theological  neighbors,  and 
the  nearest  of  these  rather  distant  and  reserved. 
But  their  little  clearing  grew ;  and  new  settlers 
began  to  move  in  and  take  up  the  region  round 
about,  and  sent  word  back  to  the  older  commu- 
nities of  the  spirit  that  here  was  a  land  flowing 
with  religious  milk  and  honey.  And  the  result 
has  been  that,  after  a  hundred  and  more  years, 
immigration  has  become  so  fast  and  forward  that 
the  theological  heirs  of  these  early  settlers  are 
kept  busy  in  the  probate  court  of  history, 
proving  priority  of  occupancy  and  title.  It  is 
always  a  privilege  for  one  who  has  entered  into 
their  labors  to  rehearse  the  story  of  their  protest 
and  its  significance,  to  a  jury  of  candid  Christian 
minds. 

There  was  need,  when  they  began  it,  of  pro- 


HOSEA  BALLOU  269 

test  and  revolt.  The  atmosphere  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century  in  America  was  heavy  and  de- 
pressing. One  need  not  accept  the  extreme  and 
bitter  denunciations  of  the  age  common  to  the 
evangelists  who  attacked  its  sins  and  shortcomings. 
But,  even  in  the  cold  light  of  historic  inquiry,  the 
facts  do  not  indicate  any  theological  or  spiritual 
stir  and  vitality.  The  religious  tendencies  were 
depressing.  Professor  Williston  Walker  has  writ- 
ten of  the  times  :  "  Taken  as  a  whole,  no  century 
in  American  religious  history  has  been  so  barren  as 
the  eighteenth.  The  fire  and  enthusiasm  of  Puri- 
tanism had  died  out  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlan- 
tic. .  .  .  While  New  England  shone  as  compared 
with  the  spiritual  deadness  of  Old  England  in  the 
years  preceding  Wesley,  the  old  fervor  and  sense 
of  a  national  mission  were  gone,  conscious  con- 
version, once  so  common,  was  unusual,  and  re- 
ligion was  becoming  more  formal  and  external." 
In  spite  of  repeated  revival  seasons;  in  spite  of 
the  labors  of  Wesley  and  Whitefield  and  Ten- 
nant,  with  their  searching  evangelism  ;  in  spite  of 
Edwards  and  Hopkins,  whose  relentless  theology 
ought  to  have  driven  their  contemporaries  pell- 
mell  to  conversion, —  the  century  dragged  on  with- 
out any  real  touch  of  heavenly  fire,  any  real 
accent  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  It  is  the  opinion  of 
Dr.  Walker    that,   "  religiously    estimated,   even 


270  HOSEA  BALLOU 

Boston  was  not  what  it  had  been  In  the  days 
of  its  founders.  The  old  Puritan  enthusiasm 
had  departed ;  and,  though  the  Sunday  congrega- 
tions were  large  and  Sunday  was  observed  with 
a  strictness  which  surprised  English  visitors,  the 
Thursday  lecture,  once  so  popular,  was  greatly 
neglected."  That  was  a  sure  sign  of  moral  de- 
generacy and  recession,  and  it  was  the  cause  of 
open  comment  and  sorrow.  Judge  Sewall  once 
noted  in  his  diary,  April  i6,  1697:  "Mr. 
Cotton  Mather  gives  notice  that  the  lecture 
is  hereafter  to  begin  at  Eleven  of  the  Clock, 
an  hour  sooner  than  formerly.  Reprov'd  the 
townspeople  that  attended  no  better :  feared 
'twould  be  an  omen  of  our  not  enjoying  the 
lecture  long,  if  did  not  amend."  The  same  state 
of  things  seems  to  have  recurred  a  half-century 
later.  But  there  must  have  been  amendment,  in 
part  at  least ;  for  the  Thursday  lecture  persists,  in 
its  perennial  freshness. 

But,  whatever  laxness  may  have  marked  the 
manners  or  the  observances  of  the  people,  there 
was  none  whatever  in  their  creed.  The  old  the- 
ology held  fast,  with  a  tenacity  unyielding  at  any 
point.  How  sure  men  were  that  it  was  the  very 
word  of  God  may  be  inferred  from  the  answer  of 
Samuel  Hopkins,  when  asked,  at  the  end  of  his 
life,  whether  he  would   make  any  alterations  in 


HOSEA  BALLOU  271 

the  sentiments  expressed  in  his  "  System  of  Divin- 
ity.'*    "  No/'  was  his  stalwart  reply,  "  I  am  will- 
ing to  rest  my  soul  on  them  forever."     Its  hold 
must  have  been  deadly,  or  men  would  have  re- 
volted headlong  at  the  awful  preaching  of  Ed- 
wards.    The  effort  to  vindicate  this  mighty  man 
and  give  him  a  sweeter  repute  in  our  day  can 
never  efface  the  horrors  of  his  theology,  nor  miti- 
gate the  intellectual   perversity  which  could   so 
misread  and  malign  the  gospel.     "We  revolt," 
says  Professor  Walker,  giving  exact  references  to 
verify    his  paraphrases,  "as   we   read   Edwards's 
contention  that  the  wicked  are  useful  simply  as 
objects  of  the  destructive  wrath  of  God ;  as  he 
beholds   the  unconverted  members   of  the  con- 
gregation before  him  withheld  for  a  brief  period 
by  the  restraining  hand  of  God  from  the  hell  into 
which  they  are  to  fall  in  their  appointed  time ;  as 
he  pictures  the  damned  glowing  in  endless  burn- 
ing agony,  like  a  spider  in  the  flames  ;  and  height- 
ens the  happiness  of  the  redeemed  by  contrast 
between  the  felicities  of  heaven  and  the  eternal 
torments  of  the  lost,  visible  forever  to  the  saints 
in  glory."     "No  wonder,"  adds  the  chronicler, 
"  that  one  of  his  congregation  was  led  to  suicide, 
and  others  felt  themselves  grievously  tempted." 
The   unnaturalness  of  any   religious    experience 
born    of    such    preaching    is    admitted    to-day. 


272  HOSEA  BALLOU 

There  could  be  no  thorough  emancipation  of 
the  human  spirit  as  long  as  the  intellect  was  held 
in  the  bonds  of  a  religious  pessimism  so  abject. 
The  revivals  of  the  eighteenth  century  were  but 
the  gasping  of  men's  affections  for  spiritual  fresh 
air,  the  convulsive  throes  of  souls  asphyxiated  by 
the  devitalized  theology  which  enveloped  them. 
It  is  the  fashion  still  to  speak  of  the  religious 
phenomena  of  Edwards's  day  in  the  middle  years 
of  the  century  as  "  The  Great  Awakening."  The 
phrase  is  a  misnomer.  There  was  in  all  this  stir 
no  awakening.  The  churches  were  only  walking 
in  sleep,  and  dreaming  the  awful  nightmare  of 
Calvinism  as  they  walked. 

But  the  real  awakening  was  at  hand.  Night- 
mares are  generally  the  prelude  to  arousal.  A  re- 
action was  inevitable.  A  new  spirit  was  asserting 
itself  in  the  very  heart  of  the  territory  thus  given 
over  to  depression  and  to  fanatical  error.  Already 
the  heralds  were  abroad,  the  forerunners  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  The  excesses  of  current 
theology  were  working  out  their  own  intellectual 
retribution.  All  through  the  strict  Calvinistic 
literature  of  the  century  one  may  read  warnings, 
protests,  denunciations,  directed  against  an  evil 
tendency  called  "  Arminianism."  It  was  a  word 
which  covered  a  multitude  of  sins.  It  meant 
very  much  what  "  free  thinking  "  stood  for  fifty 


ROSEA  BALLOU  273 

years  ago,  or  what  is  called  "  infidelity  "  to-day. 
It  was  the  synonym,  in  the  eyes  of  the  rigor- 
ously orthodox,  for  everything  which  savored  of 
departure  from  the  old  standards  and  customs. 
Lowell  says  of  a  later  term,  "  The  word  '  tran- 
scendental *  was  the  maid  of  all  work  for  those  who 
could  not  think  "  ;  and  in  like  fashion  it  may  be 
said  that  "  Arminianism  '*  was  used  in  the  same 
way  by  all  who  could  not  discriminate.  But, 
briefly,  it  was  the  designation  of  the  broader  spirit 
which  began  to  show  itself  in  men's  minds,  in  pro- 
test against  intolerance  and  irrational  theology  and 
narrow  spiritual  life.  Voices  were  lifted  up  here 
and  there  to  deny  the  perplexing  and  repulsive 
theology  of  the  age.  Jonathan  Mayhew,  pastor 
of  the  West  Church  in  Boston  from  1747  to  1766, 
was  an  outspoken  Unitarian,  and  held  unmistak- 
ably the  larger  hope  for  man.  Charles  Chauncy, 
the  distinguished  pastor  of  the  First  Church, 
wrote  and  spoke  voluminously  as  a  champion  of 
the  belief  in  the  divine  unity,  and  the  salvation 
of  all  souls.  Jeremy  Belknap,  for  twelve  years 
settled  over  the  Federal  Street  Church,  was  an 
avowed  believer  in  the  same  liberal  faith.  Nor 
was  New  England  the  only  region  where  the  new 
voices  were  heard.  Jacob  Duche,  first  chaplain 
to  Congress,  and  William  Smith,  the  founder  of 
the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  were  likewise  out- 


274  HOSEA  BALLOU 

spoken  in  their  liberal  views.  While  in  Virginia 
Robert  Yancey,  announcing  that  he  would  preach 
a  discourse  in  defence  of  his  faith  in  universal 
salvation,  was  heard  by  an  immense  throng, 
many  of  whom  were  provided  with  ropes  and 
grapevines  "  to  mete  out  justice  to  this  inno- 
vator." But  those  who  came  to  lynch  remained 
to  applaud,  and  to  give  consent  to  the  new 
message. 

Thus  there  was  asserting  itself  in  the  churches 
of  America  here  and  there,  by  the  lips  of  scat- 
tered witnesses,  a  testimony  to  the  larger  thought 
of  God  and  of  man.  But  as  yet  it  was  unorgan- 
ized and  sporadic,  a  force  which  had  not  begun 
to  concentrate  and  to  mass  itself,  like  the  electric- 
ity which  charges  the  clouds  of  a  summer  sky  be- 
fore they  form  for  the  thunder-squalL  There 
was  as  yet  no  thought  of  attacking  the  old  the- 
ology by  forming  a  new  sect.  There  was  no 
impulse  toward  organization,  for  there  was  no 
common  ground  for  these  individual  protestants. 
Even  John  Murray,  when  he  began  to  preach  in 
this  country  the  doctrines  he  had  imbibed  at  the 
feet  of  James  Relly  in  England,  had  no  thought 
of  creating  a  new  sect,  nor  of  even  forming  a  so- 
ciety, or  church,  of  believers.  Indeed,  Murray 
was  as  good  a  Calvinist  as  anybody  until  he  came 
to  "  the  last  things,"  when  he  drew  the  conclusion 


HOSEA  BALLOU  275 

of  univ^ersal  salvation  instead  of  the  usual  one  of 
majority  damnation.  And  he  at  first  preached 
this  heretical  conclusion  so  cautiously,  clothing  it 
in  such  familiar  Scripture  and  in  such  accepted 
theological  phrases,  that  he  was  not  suspected  of 
being  the  arch-heretic  he  really  was.  Elhanan 
Winchester,  too,  was  sufficiently  orthodox  save  in 
the  larger  conclusion  he  drew  as  to  the  destiny 
of  the  whole  human  race.  The  dissentients,  the 
progressives,  the  "  hberals,"  and  the  new-puri- 
tans were  once  more  repeating  the  effort,  as  con- 
stant as  it  is  futile,  to  keep  good  their  place  in  the 
familiar  and  beloved  dwellings  of  orthodoxy,  at 
the  same  time  that  they  took  up  their  new  pos- 
sessions on  the  frontiers  of  truth.  And,  as 
always,  the  effort  was  foredoomed  to  fail. 

But  during  the  last  quarter  of  the  century  or 
thereabouts  the  stream  of  liberal  tendency  in  the 
American  churches  began  to  divide  along  lines  of 
policy  and  temper ;  and,  curiously  enough,  the  two 
parties  divided  in  their  methods  and  spirits  just 
as  they  did  in  the  matter  of  emphasis  upon  dif- 
ferent phases  of  the  new  thought.  One  was  in- 
clined to  lay  the  greater  stress  upon  the  unity  of 
the  Divine  Nature  and  the  right  of  free  inquiry. 
The  other  gave  greater  weight  to  the  doctrine 
of  the  Divine  Love  as  the  assurance  of  the  final 
harmony  of  the  whole  moral  creation.     And  the 


276  ROSEA  BALLOU 

former  party  were  disposed  to  avoid  controversy, 
eschew  preaching  directly  upon  the  great  theme 
at  issue,  and,  as  Dr.  Freeman  of  Boston  once 
wrote,  "  content  themselves  with  leading  their 
hearers,  by  a  course  of  rational  but  prudent  ser- 
mons, gradually  and  insensibly  to  adopt  it." 
The  latter,  on  the  other  hand,  were  outspoken 
and  aggressive  from  the  first,  and  boldly  pro- 
claimed their  great  hope  with  a  positiveness  and 
a  fervor  which  attracted  instant  attention  and  op- 
position. This  was  the  beginning  of  that  differ- 
ence in  attitude  which  has  divided  the  forces  of 
Christian  liberalism  in  America,  and  kept  them 
sundered  for  a  full  century.  The  wing  which 
was  destined  to  form  the  Unitarian  body  would 
say,  to  use  Dr.  Atwood's  apt  statement,  "  One 
God,  the  Father."  The  wing  which  took  up  the 
Universalist  position  would  say,  "  One  God,  the 
Father.''  But  the  former  party  would  proceed 
cautiously,  make  no  breach  in  the  churches, 
would  inquire,  like  Nicodemus,  by  night,  sow  the 
seed  secretly,  and  build  the  temple  of  the  new 
faith  silently,  so  that  there  should  be  "  neither 
hammer  nor  axe  nor  any  tool  of  iron  heard  in  the 
house  while  it  was  building."  But  their  allies  of 
the  other  wing  were  for  blowing  the  trumpet  and 
warning  the  people,  and,  if  need  be,  would  "  set  a 
man  at  variance  against  his  father,  and  the  daugh- 


HOSEA  BALLOU  277 

ter  against  her  mother,  and  the  daughter-in-law 
against  her  mother-in-law." 

It  was  natural  that  such  a  difference  in  temper 
and  method  should  lead  to  a  different  manner  of 
growth  in  the  two  parties.  Accordingly,  we  find 
that  those  who  stood  first  of  all  for  the  larger 
hope  were  the  more  quickly  forced  to  organize, 
to  formulate  a  fighting  faith,  to  gather  their  fol- 
lowers and  equip  them  for  offence  and  defence. 
Their  sentence  was  for  open  war  ;  and,  long  before 
their  brethren  of  the  more  pacific  temper  had  been 
driven  from  the  safe  and  home-like  shelter  of  the 
old  communions,  they  were  an  embattled  host, 
determined  in  their  resistance  to  the  old  system 
from  which  they  had  escaped,  and  in  a  truly 
apostolic  spirit  showing  again  a  loyal  conformity 
to  the  terms  of  the  Great  Commission,  and 
ready  to  be  witnesses  of  the  truth  "  both  in  Jeru- 
salem and  in  all  Judea  and  in  Samaria,  and  unto 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth."  True,  they 
were  an  ineffective  band,  unorganized,  and  without 
discipline  and  leadership.  As  one  of  their  sons 
in  the  faith  has  said,  "  They  were  done  with 
Calvinism  and  were  waiting  to  see  what  next." 
But  like  the  patriots  a  few  years  before,  their 
brothers  and  countrymen,  who  had  resisted  the 
doctrines  of  an  overbearing  king  without  knowing 
whither  their  boldness  would    bring  them,  they 


278  HOSEA  BALLOU 

found  new  light  as  they  went,  and  the  way  was 
opened  as  they  trod  in  it. 

Now  there  was  one  man  who,  first  of  all  the 
liberal  leaders  in  America,  wrought  the  great  ideas 
which  were  possessing  the  minds  of  many  men 
into  something  like  a  definite  system,  a  coherent 
theology,  a  rational  and  related  whole.  When 
the  Calvinism  of  Edwards  and  of  Hopkins  was 
almost  absolute,  and  the  Arminianism  which  was 
merely  its  negative  was  either  lame  in  its  premises 
or  impotent  in  its  conclusions,  this  man  thought 
out  all  the  essentials  of  the  great  system  which 
was  to  displace  Calvinisrri  as  the  religion  of  the 
masses.  Hosea  Ballou  comes  into  the  view  of 
the  student  of  the  Broad  Church  theology  at  a 
time  when  that  theology  was  little  more  than  an 
attitude  of  men's  minds.  It  meant  revolt  against 
the  harshness  which  was  enthroned  under  the 
name  of  God.  It  meant  denial  of  the  tritheism 
of  the  age,  and  a  reaching  after  a  more  rational 
interpretation  of  the  divine  nature.  It  meant  a 
discontent  with  the  pessimistic  view  of  human 
nature.  It  meant,  in  many  quarters  at  least,  a 
rejection  of  the  idea  of  the  doom  of  the  majority, 
and  a  brave  belief  in  the  salvation  of  all  men. 
But  it  was  not  as  yet  consistent  with  itself  It 
was  negative,  not  positive.  It  lacked  definiteness 
and  logical   order   and    coherency.     It  was    still 


HOSEA  BALLOU  279 

little  more  than  an  attempt  to  patch  the  old  gar- 
ments of  traditional  orthodoxy,  and  to  put  a  new 
spirit  into  the  dried  and  cracking  skins  of  the 
obnoxious  creeds.  But  in  the  thought  of  Ballou 
a  work  of  transformation  and  simplification  was 
going  on,  more  radical  than  had  taken  place  in 
the  mind  of  any  American  theologian.  He  made 
his  way  out  of  all  the  bewildering  and  artificial 
theology  of  the  schools  and  the  traditions,  freeing 
himself  from  their  sophistries  and  from  their 
terrors,  seeking  and  finding  the  light  of  a  higher 
truth  for  himself  and  for  all  men.  In  1805,  in 
his  "  Treatise  on  Atonement,"  Hosea  Ballou  gave 
to  the  world  the  first  American  book  which  em- 
bodied the  outlines  of  the  Broad  Church  theol- 
ogy, a  religious  classic,  presenting  an  original,  a 
simple,  a  natural  account  of  the  meaning  of  the 
gospel,  which  after  a  hundred  years  is  just  be- 
coming the  working  creed  of  the  church  in 
America. 

In  1 77 1,  ten  years  before  Channing*s  birth, 
thirteen  years  after  Edwards  had  died,  this  man 
was  born  in  Richmond,  N.H.  His  origin  was 
humble,  his  early  life  was  one  of  toil,  poverty, 
and  scanty  resources,  both  material  and  intel- 
lectual. He  had  only  such  schooling  as  poor 
boys  in  country  regions  could  obtain  in  those 
days,  and  a  term  at  a  small  academy  when  he  was 


o8o  HOSEA  BALLOU 

nineteen.  But,  as  he  matured,  he  began  to  show 
the  traits  of  genius  which  no  circumstances  could 
cloud,  no  obstacles  hinder.  Like  all  providen- 
tial men,  he  had  a  power  which  we  cannot  account 
for  by  anything  in  his  surroundings  or  his  ante- 
cedents. His  environment  only  gave  direction 
to  his  genius  :  it  in  no  wise  accounts  for  it.  His 
father  was  a  Baptist  clergyman,  and  the  lad  was 
reared  in  the  atmosphere  of  a  strict  Calvinism. 
Baptized  at  eighteen,  his  interest  in  the  faith  he 
had  learned  as  a  child  became  more  lively;  and 
his  reflections  were  greatly  stimulated  by  hearing 
for  the  first  time  the  doctrines  of  one  Rev.  Caleb 
Rich,  a  Baptist  preacher  whose  Calvinism  had 
the  new  conclusion  of  universal  salvation,  and  who 
was  making  some  converts  in  young  Ballou's  cir- 
cle. He  had  never  heard  the  utterance  of  the 
larger  hope  before.  He  knew  no  books  or  lit- 
erature upon  the  subject.  He  was  a  lonely  soul, 
wrestling  in  the  dark  with  the  great  primal  ques- 
tions of  life,  of  destiny,  of  human  nature,  and 
of  God's  will.  Like  many  another  soul  in  such 
plight,  he  turned  with  a  Puritan  simplicity  and 
singleness  of  heart  to  the  one  Book ;  and  with 
his  Bible,  his  own  reason,  and  the  illumining  spirit 
pushed  on  to  conclusions  which  left  him  far 
enough  from  the  faith  of  his  fathers.  Let  it  be 
remembered  that  Ballou  was  as  much  a  "  Bible- 


HOSEA  BALLOU  281 

man  "  as  Dwight  Moody  himself.  Only  he  was 
trying  to  frame  a  theology  out  of  what  he  found 
in  the  book,  not  to  find  in  the  book  a  vindication 
of  his  own  theories  or  the  traditions  of  men. 
Before  he  was  thirty  years  old,  he  had  found  light 
and  peace.  The  old  theology  had  for  him  be- 
come but  a  memory.  He  had  rejected  every  one 
of  its  essentials,  and  had  substituted  for  them  a 
system  which  anticipated  in  almost  every  particu- 
lar the  creed  of  the  Christian  liberals  of  our  day. 
In  the  "Treatise  on  Atonement"  one  finds 
theology  reconstructed,  simplified,  rationalized, 
modernized.  It  was  not  merely  a  monograph 
upon  its  title  theme.  It  was  a  restatement  in 
divinity,  a  revival  of  the  gospel  teaching,  a  com- 
prehensive system  of  thought.  It  was  the  first 
American  book,  as  its  author  was  the  first 
American  theologian,  to  thoroughly  restate  the 
great  New  Testament  teachings,  and  relate  them 
to  the  fundamental,  radical  truth  that  "God  is 
Love.'*  It  asserted  the  unity  of  the  Divine  Nat- 
ure, and  Love  as  the  essence  of  that  Nature,  the 
source  of  creation's  life,  the  test  of  all  spiritual 
activities.  It  taught  the  fatherhood  of  God  and 
the  brotherhood  of  man  through  sonship  to  God. 
It  decisively  declared  the  doctrine  of  salvation  bv 
character,  rightness  in  the  soul  manifested  in 
righteousness  in    conduct.     It  was    the   first   of 


282  HOSEA  BALLOU 

American  books  to  teach  the  atonement  as  the 
reconciling  of  man  to  God, —  the  doctrine  which 
is  so  fast  obtaining  in  all  the  churches,  with  Bush- 
nell  as  its  putative  sponsor.  It  put  the  relation 
of  sin  to  punishment  in  absolutely  new  light, 
declaring  it  to  be  instant,  constant,  inevitable,  as 
cause  to  effect,  as  seed  to  fruitage.  And  it  as- 
serted the  final  harmony  of  all  souls  with  God,  as 
the  necessary  culmination  of  a  universe  whose 
centre  and  circumference  are  determined  by  the 
love  of  God. 

That  was  the  gist  of  the  "  Treatise  on  Atone- 
ment," and  that  the  consistent,  perspicuous  mes- 
sage of  Ballou  to  his  fellow-men.  And  that  mes- 
sage was  put  forth  ten  years  before  Channing  and 
the  Unitarians  had  found  their  voice,  or  even 
their  minds.  It  was  in  the  air  a  generation  be- 
fore the  ordination  of  Bushnell,  and  seventy  years 
before  Beecher  was  thundering  in  Plymouth  pul- 
pit, in  belated  echoes  of  its  mighty  notes.  Ail 
that  modern  thought  holds  dearest,  its  most 
luminous,  most  reasonable,  most  inspiring  affirma- 
tions, were  written  aforetime  in  that  epoch-making 
book.  And  there  was  added  to  these  cardinal 
points  of  the  new  theology,  that  which  none  but 
he  and  the  apostles  in  the  larger  hope  had  the 
courage  to  believe  and  to  proclaim,  but  which 
must   always    be   the    conclusion    of  any  system 


ROSEA  BALLOU  283 

which  begins  with  the   love    and    fatherhood    of 
God,  the  prophecy  of  the 

"  One  far-off  divine  event, 
To  vt^hich  the  whole  creation  moves." 

It  is  entirely  true  that  for  fifty  years  before 
Ballou  the  elements  of  this  faith  had  been  in  the 
air.  Many  minds  had  groped  for  it,  many  had 
almost  grasped  it.  Many  voices  had  been  lifted 
in  the  wilderness,  forerunners  of  the  awakening 
that  was  to  come.  But  they  had  so  far  fallen 
short  of  a  comprehensive  system,  of  a  logical 
rationale  of  the  dawning  faith.  Either  they  had 
begun  right,  but  had  not  thought  on  to  the  glo- 
rious end,  or  they  had  tacked  a  stupendous  con- 
clusion to  weak  and  inadequate  premises,  or  they 
had  built  well  the  arch  upon  its  abutments  and 
left  out  the  keystone.  Rosea  Ballou  was  more 
thorough  than  any  of  them,  while  in  him  the 
thoughts  of  many  hearts  were  revealed.  There 
are  always  many  portents  of  the  dawn  before  the 
sun  is  really  up.  The  light  comes  in  by  slow 
degrees;  but  at  last  there  is  a  moment  when 
we  cry,  "  The  day  !  "  There  were  many  tokens 
of  the  widening  sympathies  which  were  one  day 
to  fellowship  the  Gentiles  coming  to  Christ, — 
Philip  preaching  to  the  Ethiopian;  Peter's 
visit  to  Simon  the  tanner  and  to  Cornelius ;  the 


284  HOSEA  BALLOU 

mission  to  the  Greeks  at  Antioch.  But  the 
great  truth  that  the  gospel  was  for  the  Gentile, 
for  any  child  of  God  without  respect  to  race 
or  tongue,  was  never  seized  in  its  fulness  and 
power  till  Paul  gave  it  his  aggressive  champion- 
ship. It  is  not  enough  that  a  truth  should  be  in 
the  air  :  it  never  becomes  effective  till  somebody 
takes  it  out  of  the  air  and  presses  it  home  upon 
human  hearts  and  understandings.  The  relig- 
ious prophet  is  the  man  who  has  the  insight  to 
know  what  is  in  the  air,  and  condense  it  into 
speech,  and  precipitate  it  upon  men's  hearts. 
Christianity  itself  was  "  in  the  air "  before  the 
star  in  the  East  shone  over  Bethlehem.  But 
it  needed  the  spirit  of  the  Christ  himself  to 
realize  to  men's  minds  the  meaning  of  these 
preludes  of  the  truth,  and  frame  it  into  the 
harmonies  of  the  gospel.  He  vitalized  the 
thoughts  of  many  generations,  and  out  of  his 
own  spirit  gave  them  like  a  word  original  and 
new  to  men. 

That  was  Hosea  Ballou's  great  service  to 
America.  First,  he  wrought  out  a  definite 
thought  concerning  God  and  his  moral  creation. 
And  then  he  went  forth,  in  the  power  of  the 
spirit,  to  preach  that  thought  unto  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth.  He  recognized  the  real  voice 
of  God    in    the  many  voices   of  his   time,  and 


ROSEA  BALLOU  285 

then  he  lent  his  own  voice  reverently  to  interpret 
God's  voice. 

It  was  the  first  work  of  Ballou  to  convert  to 
his  own  thought  the  men  of  his  own  party, 
to  make  the  scattered  Universalists  of  his  day 
accept  his  new  and  larger  point  of  view.  Nor 
was  it  a  long  nor  a  difficult  task.  Within  ten 
years  from  the  issue  of  the  "  Treatise "  there 
were  but  tv/o  Trinitarians  in  the  Universalist 
ministry  in  America.  In  the  words  of  John  W. 
Chadwick,  "  He  published  his  book  on  the 
Atonement  in  1805,  at  which  time  Boston  Uni- 
tarianism  was  all  latent ;  and  it  was  not  until 
181 5  that  C banning,  by  his  letter  in  reply  to 
Worcester,  obliged  his  Unitarian  friends  to  show 
their  colors  and  to  pass  for  what  they  were.  By 
that  time,  thanks  to  Hosea  Ballou,  the  Univer- 
salists were  a  homogeneous  anti-trinitarian  body." 
By  that  time,  too,  the  policy  of  Ballou  and  his 
associates  had  become  definite  and  unmistakable. 
They  had  come  to  realize  that,  if  they  were  to 
prevail  and  their  truth  was  to  gain  a  hearing  and 
to  win  the  minds  of  men,  they  must  carry  on  a 
vigorous,  unremitting,  unflinching  warfare  on  its 
behalf.  They  perceived  how  thoroughly  the 
churches  were  possessed  of  the  gloomy  spirit  of 
Calvinism ;  and  they  realized,  too,  with  a  hard 
sense    which    does    them    credit,   that    this    kind 


286  HOSEA  BALLOU 

goeth  not  out  save  by  fasting  and  prayer, —  yea, 
and  by  the  exorcism  of  hard  buffeting  and  relent- 
less contradiction.  The  revival  of  early  Christian 
theology  was  not  to  come  about  of  itself.  It  was 
not  an  accident :  it  was  a  work.  No  great  vic- 
tory in  this  world  ever  happens.  It  is  won. 
And  the  winning  means  toil  and  warfare,  hard 
blows  and  stern  privations.  That  truth  had  come 
home  to  the  men  with  the  larger  hope  in  their 
hearts  before  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
For  them,  clearly,  there  was  no  quarter,  as  there 
were  no  quarters  any  longer,  in  the  established 
communions.  If  they  would  maintain  them- 
selves, an  aggressive  propaganda  was  absolutely 
necessary. 

They  went  forth  on  their  crusade.  They  were 
plain  people,  many  of  them  with  small  education, 
but  great  in  their  courage,  their  devotion,  and 
their  profound  belief  in  the  faith  they  taught. 
Like  all  Protestants  of  their  day,  they  made  the 
Bible  their  court  of  appeal ;  but  they  were  full  of 
that  homely  rationalism  which  insists  on  reading 
Scripture  through  the  eyes  ot  common  sense  and 
human  sentiment.  They  believed  in  religious 
liberty  and  the  right  to  private  judgment  too  pro- 
foundly to  debate  about  them.  Necessity  was 
laid  upon  them  ;  and  it  was  woe  unto  them  if  they 
preached  not  that  gospel  of  theirs  !     They  went 


ROSEA  BALLOU  287 

to  the  people.  They  rallied  them  in  churches 
when  they  could,  in  halls  and  school-houses  and 
court-rooms  when  churches  were  denied  them. 
They  cornered  those  whom  they  were  accustomed 
to  call  "  the  friendly  opponent,"  by  which  term 
they  meant  the  average  believer  in  the  popular 
creeds,  in  the  country  store  and  in  the  stage- 
coach and  in  his  own  house.  They  made  a  pul- 
pit of  the  hay-field  and  the  shoemaker's  bench. 
Their  preachers  expounded  the  word,  and  the 
laymen  passed  on  the  message.  Pamphlet,  book, 
and  newspaper  went  from  hand  to  hand.  The 
land  was  traversed  from  Maine  to  Ohio.  As 
numbers  increased,  churches  were  organized, 
houses  of  worship  were  reared,  organization  was 
effected.  They  braved  the  odium  of  popular  dis- 
trust and  ecclesiastical  hatred.  They  persisted  in 
the  face  of  ostracism  and  of  persecution.  They 
were  undaunted  by  the  show  of  superior  numbers 
and  of  religious  influence.  And  the  result  of 
it  all  was  that  the  people  heard  their  message. 
Their  seed  was  sown  broadcast. 

It  is  a  poor  and  narrow  criticism  of  their  work 
to-day  to  say  that  it  was  controversial,  that  it 
was  destructive  and  polemic  and  aggressive.  It 
had  to  be  all  this,  or  a  great  opportunity  would 
have  been  lost,  a  great  transformation  unwrought. 
There  must  always  be  protest  and  challenge  of 


288  HOSEA  BALLOU 

the  old  thought  before  a  lodgment  can  be  found 
for  the  new.  The  rooted  and  obstinate  Calvin- 
ism of  the  eighteenth  century  could  no  more  have 
been  moved  in  any  other  way  than  the  old  forests 
of  New  England  could  have  been  cleared  off  to 
make  way  for  its  farms  and  villages,  its  cities  and 
its  shops,  without  the  sharp  edge  of  the  axe  and  the 
mattock  and  the  industrious  brawn  of  the  woods- 
man behind  them.  The  gentle  erosion  of  disap- 
proving silence  and  dissenting  neutrality  would 
have  been  about  as  effectual  against  the  dominant 
creed  as  dewfalls  in  washing  away  the  ledges  of 
Katahdin.  This  was  the  rude  truth  which  was 
forced  upon  Channing  and  his  associates  in  1815. 
They  were  compelled  to  take  the  very  course 
they  had  deprecated  in  the  followers  of  Ballou. 
But,  by  the  time  they  were  finally  embarked  as 
a  denomination,  he  and  his  comrades  had  been 
for  forty  years  carrying  on  a  campaign  of  aggres- 
sive enlightenment. 

With  the  schism  in  the  Congregational  churches 
and  the  exodus  of  the  Unitarian  wing,  the  men 
who  had  been  fighting  the  same  battle  of  ideas 
looked  for  the  re-enforcement  of  sympathy  of  fel- 
lowship and  of  co-operation.  They  were  lonesome, 
naturally;  and  they  craved  spiritual  friendship. 
They  were  hard  pressed,  and  they  would  have 
welcomed    moral    support.      But  it   never  came. 


HOSEA  BALLOU  289 

The  Unitarian  of  the  early  century  preferred  his 
brethren  from  whom  he  was  parted  by  all  his 
convictions,  to  the  men  who  stood  nearest  to  him 
in  thought  and  in  theological  aim.  And  the  cool- 
ness was  not  unnoted,  nor  did  it  pass  without 
protest.  There  is  a  pathetic  sermon  of  Hosea 
Ballou's  in  which  he  gently  chides  the  Unitarians 
of  his  day,  in  the  mild  spirit  of  the  text,  "  Never- 
theless, I  have  somewhat  against  thee,"  and,  after 
showing  how  nearly  identical  is  the  faith  of  these 
new  "  come-outers  "  with  his  own,  wonders  that 
they  will  not  own  that  they  believe  in  the  salva- 
tion of  all  souls,  and  that  they  will  give  no  aid 
nor  comfort  to  those  who  do.  And  he  mourns 
that  the  fraternal  courtesies  which  are  freely  ex- 
changed by  Unitarians  with  those  who  count 
them  heretics  are  withheld  from  those  who  would 
count  them  as  allies.  It  is  a  touching  witness  to 
the  disappointment  and  yearning  of  a  large  heart, 
consecrated  above  all  things,  and  especially  above 
all  personal  ends,  to  the  spread  of  the  gospel  of 
the  larger  hope  and  faith  in  the  name  of  the  In- 
finite Love. 

For,  beyond  all  question,  the  foremost  figure 
of  this  new  crusade,  the  most  commanding  and 
the  most  forceful,  was  Hosea  Ballou,  now  of 
Boston.  As  his  thought,  by  this  time,  had  won 
the    intellectual    assent    of  his    brethren,    so   his 


290 


HOSEA  BALLOU 


apostolic  spirit  and  his  great  genius  as  a  preacher 
made  him  easily  first  among  the  heralds  of  the 
new  way.  He  was  one  of  the  greatest  preachers 
America  ever  had.  Wherever  he  went,  heretic 
though  he  was,  crowds  flocked  to  hear  him.  His 
fame  grew  with  his  years.  Maligned,  hated, 
feared,  by  the  conservatives  of  his  day,  he  had 
such  charm  of  speech,  such  persuasiveness,  such 
self-control  and  gentleness  of  spirit,  such  absolute 
simplicity  of  word  and  thought,  that  the  common 
people  heard  him  gladly.  "  The  measure  of  a 
man,"  says  some  one,  "  is  his  ability  to  multiply 
himself"  He  left  a  wonderful  record  of  souls 
touched  by  his  spirit  and  illumined  by  his 
thought  into  the  freedom  of  a  happier  faith.  His 
converts  were  as  the  sands  of  the  sea,  a  multi- 
tude no  man  could  number.  He  pleaded  with 
a  logic  few  could  withstand  against  the  harsh  and 
dreary  theology  of  his  age.  His  discourse  made 
the  love  of  God  seem  credible,  and  the  brother- 
hood of  man  seem  actual,  and  the  victory  of  God 
seem  inevitable.  He  was  fairly  Socratic  in  the 
skill  with  which  he  led  the  objector  to  his  teach- 
ing into  logical  corners  whence  there  was  no  es- 
cape. He  was  thoroughly  Pauline  in  the  zeal 
with  which  he  proclaimed  the  broad  gospel  of  the 
love  that  never  faileth.  His  dignity  was  habit- 
ual.    But  it  neither  withdrew  him  from  his  fellow- 


ROSEA  BALLOU  291 

men  nor  hindered  for  a  moment  the  play  of  a  wit 
that  was  warmed  by  humor,  a  humor  edged  with 
wit. 

But  the  most  characteristic  of  his  traits,  and 
that  which  clings  like  a  rich  fragrance  about  his 
memory,  was  the  absolute  simplicity  and  homely 
quaintness  of  the  man.  He  was  a  son  of  the  soil 
of  New  England.  The  garb  of  his  mind  was 
plain,  his  speech  was  the  dialect  of  the  people, 
his  logic  the  shrewdness  of  their  common  sense, 
piercing  at  last  the  sophistries  of  a  thousand 
years.  There  is  one  man  in  the  nation's  his- 
tory in  whose  class  he  falls,  in  temper,  in  method, 
in  effectiveness.  Abraham  Lincoln  and  Hosea 
Ballou  belong  in  the  same  genus.  Both  men 
sprung  from  the  plain  people,  appealed  to  the 
plain  people,  and  uttered  the  heart  of  the  plain 
people.  Both  drew  their  inspiration,  not  from 
the  schools,  but  from  experience,  and  from  a 
first-hand  grapple  with  the  great  life-problems. 
Both  possessed  the  same  sweet  reasonableness, 
the  same  indomitable  faith,  the  same  unerring 
perception  of  the  work  committed  to  their  hands. 
And  both  exercised  the  same  personal  charm,  the 
same  indisputable  sway  of  inborn  leadership.  As 
Lincoln  forced  the  conflict  which  was  to  precipi- 
tate Civil  War,  but  through  that  war  rebuild  the 
very  foundations  of  the  nation,  so  Ballou  brought 


292  ROSEA  BALLOU 

on  the  fighting  which  was  to  rend  the  churches 
only  to  reconcile  them  ultimately  on  the  basis  of 
a  higher  truth.  And,  as  Lincoln  emancipated 
the  nation  from  the  thrall  of  a  slavery  which 
bound  two  races  in  common  and  degrading  fet- 
ters, so  Ballou  was  the  leader  in  a  tremendous 
Hberation  of  the  intellect  and  spirit  of  the  Ameri- 
can Church,  and  gave  back  to  the  Lord's  free 
men  the  real  enjoyment  of  his  fatherhood,  with- 
held from  them  by  a  usurping  theology  since  the 
days  of  Origen  and  Clement  and  Gregory  of 
Nyssa.  The  lasting  claim  of  Lincoln  to  the 
world's  honor  and  homage  rests  on  his  unerring 
perception  that  the  great  call  of  the  hour  was  for 
the  preservation  of  the  Union,  and  the  unswerv- 
ing and  dogged  persistence  with  which  he  clung 
to  that  one  aim.  The  world  will  yet  pay  its 
honors  to  Ballou  for  his  equally  sagacious  selec- 
tion of  the  supreme  issue  in  theology,  and  his 
lifelong  labor  to  convince  the  American  religious 
world  that  the  heart  of  the  gospel  is  the  as- 
surance of  Love  at  the  core  of  the  universe, 
working  through  all  the  ages  to  an  absolute  and 
unqualified  success  in  its  purposes. 

For  this,  and  nothing  less,  was  the  real  "  Ballou 
theology "  so  often  supposed  to  be  something 
less  and  diflFerent.  It  is  one  of  the  puzzles  of 
history    how    the    tradition    should    have    arisen 


HOSEA  BALLOU  293 

here  in  Boston,  where  Ballou  was  so  long  a 
power  and  a  presence  known  of  all,  and  among 
those  who  heard  his  speech  and  read  his  pages, 
that  the  "  Ballouian  theology "  was  the  mere 
affirmation  of  no-future  punishment,  or  even  of 
the  salvation  of  all  souls.  It  was  a  rounded, 
mature,  and  comprehensive  scheme  of  thought ; 
and  it  was  a  system  which  remains  untouched  in 
its  substance,  whatever  view  be  taken  of  the  rela- 
tion of  this  life  to  the  next. 

One  feature  of  the  theology  of  Ballou  has 
never  received  the  recognition  it  deserves.  It  is 
the  spirit  running  all  through  it,  which  reconciles 
it  to  the  order  and  law  of  the  rest  of  the  divine 
administration,  which  makes  it  seem  one  with 
nature.  Dr.  Munger  has  recently  declared  the 
secret  of  Horace  Bushnell  to  be  that  he  saw  all 
things  as  a  part  of  one  great  scheme  of  nature. 
He  quotes  as  applicable  to  Bushnell  what  Har- 
nack  said  of  Luther :  "He  liberated  the  natural 
life  and  the  natural  order  of  things."  That  was 
Hosea  Ballou's  secret  as  well.  He  straightened 
the  twists  out  of  the  theology  of  a  thousand 
years,  and  made  it  as  natural  as  it  came  from 
Jesus'  lips.  His  theology  is  in  harmony  with 
the  nature  of  things  other  than  theological,  not 
at  odds  with  them.  It  belongs  by  right  in  the 
universe  revealed  by  science.     Whatever  ground 


294  HOSEA  BALLOU 

he  took  with  regard  to  miracle  and  the  attestation 
of  the  gospel,  he  was  fifty  years  before  Parker  in 
the  "  naturalization  of  religion."  His  theology 
was  what  Emerson  said  miracle,  as  pronounced 
by  the  church,  was  not, —  "  one  with  the  blowing 
clover  and  the  falling  rain."  It  is  marvellous  to 
see  how  modern  he  is  in  all  the  substance  of  his 
thinking.  His  speech  bears  the  mark  of  his 
times,  but  not  his  ideas.  His  conception  of  God 
and  his  providence,  of  the  great  cardinal  facts  and 
processes  of  spiritual  life, —  sin,  repentance,  retri- 
bution, forgiveness, —  nowhere  clash  with  the  new 
thought,  but  rather  anticipate  it  by  a  hundred 
years.  So  that  one  can  turn  back  from  the  pages 
of  Martineau  and  Emerson,  of  Savage  and  of 
Cone,  of  Munger  and  Brooks,  to  the  thought 
of  Ballou,  and  not  experience  any  change  of 
climate  or  serious  shift  of  intellectual  environ- 
ment. It  is  surprising  to  find  how  close  were 
his  views  of  sin,  of  moral  evil,  of  necessity  and 
free  will,  of  penalty,  of  justice,  of  the  implications 
of  love,  to  the  modern  point  of  view.  There  is 
scarcely  one  of  the  modern  ideas  on  which  you 
may  not  see  the  sign-manual  of  Hosea  Ballou, 
written  more  than  a  century  ago. 

So  we  are  prepared  to  see  that  he  was  not  a 
man  of  one  idea,  and  that  a  narrow  one.  He 
did  not,  as  some  v/ill  have  it,  make  a  "  special 


HOSEA  BALLOU  295 

issue"  against  the  doctrine  of  eternal  punish- 
ment, or  even  against  the  doctrine  of  future  retri- 
bution. The  later  views  he  held,  exaggerated 
and  misconstrued  by  those  who  disliked  them, 
have  been  seized  upon  as  representing  all  his 
thought,  and  forced  into  a  prominence  they  do 
not  deserve.  In  his  own  view  the  essential  thing 
about  moral  retribution  is  not  its  duration,  but 
its  certainty  and  its  adequacy.  And  the  strength 
of  his  thought  was  put  forth  to  prove,  not  that 
men  are  converted  —  as  he  believed  — -  in  the  early 
stages  of  the  future  life,  but  that  they  are  disci- 
plined throughout  all  the  days  of  this  present 
life.  He  labored  to  convince  the  world  that 
"the  righteous  shall  be  recompensed  in  the 
earth  much  more  the  wicked  and  the  sinner." 
Only  he  laid  the  emphasis  on  the  words  "  shall 
be  recompensed."  He  insisted,  in  flat  and 
heroic  contradiction  to  the  popular  teaching  of 
his  time,  that  the  mills  of  God  are  grinding  here 
and  now  ;  that  sin  and  its  penalties  are  coincident ; 
that  every  day  is  judgment  day ;  and  that,  in  the 
substance  of  the  soul  as  well  as  its  environment, 
sin  works  inevitable  and  immediate  confusion 
and  disorder.  The  chief  odium  of  his  teaching 
was  not  on  account  of  his  views  of  the  future, 
but  on  account  of  his  insistence  that  the  present 
is  the  scene  of  judgment  and  punishment.     That 


296  HOSEA  BALLOU 

was  an  idea  abhorrent  to  the  orthodoxy  of  his 
time.  That  it  has  become  a  commonplace  of 
later  thought  is  chiefly  due  to  the  blows  he 
struck  in  the  early  years  of  the  nineteenth 
century. 

But  he  never  lost  sight  nor  grasp  of  the  cen- 
tral truth  in  his  thought,  that  the  fatherhood  of 
God  involves  the  final  harmony  of  all  souls. 
And  he  deserves  the  honor  of  all  clear  thinkers 
for  the  vigor  with  which  he  insisted  on  the 
premises,  and  then  drew  the  conclusion.  There 
were  many  in  his  day  who  were  faintly  discerning 
the  real  meaning  of  God's  fatherhood.  There 
were  a  few  who  were  possessed  of  the  larger  faith 
in  "the  restitution  of  all  things."  But  Ballou 
was  the  first  to  link  the  two  ideas  in  their  logical 
relation,  read  all  their  great  implications,  and 
argue  "  the  new  theology,"  a  hundred  years 
before  it  was  so  baptized,  from  premise  to  con- 
clusion. And  he  made  men  feel  the  folly  of 
accepting  a  premise  unless  they  were  prepared  to 
go  on  to  the  end  of  the  logical  process.  It  was 
Ballou's  teaching  that,  if  God  is  a  father  to  all 
men,  he  owes  all  a  father's  care,  a  father's 
patience,  a  father's  protection.  To  have  created 
them  for  good,  and  then  to  have  suffered  them  to 
come  short  of  that  good  by  an  eternity  in  perdi- 
tion, would    have    been  the  most  unfatherly  of 


ROSEA  BALLOU  297 

acts.  He  is  bound  by  every  consideration  we 
can  conceive  as  binding  upon  a  fatherly  heart  to 
secure  to  them  a  destiny  of  salvation.  And  so 
the  futile  though  well-meant,  efforts  of  the  new 
theology  men  to  square  their  theories  with  their 
eschatology,  and  reconcile  their  doctrine  of  God's 
fatherhood  with  their  dogma  of  endless  punish- 
ment, would  have  drawn  the  sharpest  fire  from 
Ballou's  unfaltering  mind.  Had  he  lived  to  see 
the  modern  attempts  to  mitigate  the  horrors  of 
endless  perdition  in  the  interests  of  the  fatherly 
character  of  God,  he  would  have  been  quick  to 
perceive  and  to  expose  its  weakness.  For  it 
does  not  relieve  the  situation  of  any  of  its  repel- 
lent features  to  admit  the  salvation  of  infants  or 
of  the  great  majority  of  adults  or  of  good  pagans 
or  of  those  who  may  repent  after  the  breath  has 
failed,  and  before  the  spirit  has  left  the  body. 
Neither  does  it  help  matters  to  shut  one's  eyes 
to  the  possible  outcome,  and  resign  one's  self 
to  a  severe  agnosticism  about  the  future  fate  of 
souls.  It  does  not  change  the  radical  relations 
of  the  current  doctrines  of  future  punishment  to 
the  divine  love  to  say  that  one  cherishes  an 
eternal  hope  —  which,  if  eternally  a  hope,  will 
never  be  realized  —  of  the  final  good  of  all. 
These  are  but  temporary  halting-places  at  which 
the  reason    bent    on    and    bound    for    the    truth 


298  ROSEA  BALLOU 

stops  in  deference  to  old  prejudice,  which  gets 
out  of  breath  in  the  rapid  march  away  from 
ancient  error.  If  you  take  your  departure  on 
theological  waters  from  the  great  truth  of  God's 
fatherhood,  you  make  no  landfall  this  side  the 
assurance  of  the  final  good  of  all  his  children. 
The  Scripture  and  the  philosophy  which  led 
Henry  Ward  Beecher  to  denounce  and  to  vitu- 
perate the  Calvinistic  dogma  of  predestination  to 
damnation;  which  leads  Newman  Smyth  to  be- 
lieve in  a  chance  beyond  death  for  the  heathen 
who  have  not  heard  of  Christ  in  life;  which 
made  Frederick  Farrar  eternally  hope  for  the 
great  salvation  in  which  he  did  not  believe, — 
this  Scripture  and  this  reasoning  carry  the  mind 
straight  on  to  the  conclusions  of  Ballou,  that  all 
the  family  of  the  One  Father  will  finally  rejoice 
in  his  love.  To  decree  the  damnation  of  his 
intelligent  creatures  is  no  greater  crime  in  Deity 
than  to  permit  it ;  to  lose  a  few  souls  or  a  single 
soul  is  as  dark  a  blot  on  Divine  Love  as  to  lose 
ninety-nine  one-hundredths  of  a  race ;  to  deny 
the  chance  to  the  home  heathen  which  is  ac- 
corded to  the  pagans  who  live  in  distant  parts  is 
a  mockery  of  the  universal  justice ;  and  the  same 
ridicule  and  denunciation  of  a  material  hell 
which  are  used  so  unsparingly  to-day  in  so  many 
uneasy  pulpits  apply  with  equal  cogency  to  any 


ROSEA  BALLOU  299 

doctrine  which  admits  the  more  awful  possibility 
of  the  eternity  of  sin  and  mental  suffering.  In 
short,  if  you  go  the  mile  with  Dr.  Lyman 
Abbott  in  his  eager  championship  of  the  uni- 
versal fatherhood  of  God,  you  can  assign  no 
good  reason  for  not  going  the  twain  with  Hosea 
Ballou  in  his  faith  in  the  final  holiness  of  all 
souls.  If  you  stop  short  of  his  glorious  conclu- 
sion, you  do  it  by  main  force.  You  defy  the 
logic  which  has  brought  you  the  length  you  have 
gone,  and  set  at  naught  the  principle  you  have 
yourself  accepted  as  valid.  When  we  consider 
how  few  there  are  who  have  either  the  vision  or 
the  courage  to  look  straight  on  from  the  begin- 
ning of  theological  truths  to  the  end,  we  shall 
have  some  preparation  for  estimating  the  large- 
ness of  this  man,  and  his  disciples  who  followed 
the  logic  of  love  to  its  sublime  conclusions. 

But  let  it  be  said  with  renewed  emphasis  that, 
while  the  courage  and  the  theological  straightfor- 
wardness of  these  men  is  to  be  credited  with  the 
rapid  increase  of  faith  in  the  final  harmony  of  all 
souls  with  God,  that  was  not  the  only  article  of 
their  creed,  the  sole  issue  they  made  with  the  or- 
thodoxy of  their  day.  They  were  not  the  prison- 
ers of  a  solitary  idea.  They  moved  in  a  large 
field,  entirely  apart  from  the  creed  they  had  left 
behind.     This  could   not  be  said  of  Murray  and 


300  HOSEA  BALLOU 

Winchester  :  it  was  true  of  Ballou  and  the  follow- 
ing he  led,  which  so  soon  amounted  to  a  whole 
denomination.  They  and  their  heirs  and  assigns 
to  the  present  day  were  and  have  been  Broad 
Churchmen,  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  term. 
There  is  not  an  idea  or  a  principle  which  com- 
mands the  assent  of  advanced  and  advancing 
Christian  men  to-day,  saving  the  questions  of 
miracle  and  Biblical  criticism,  which  was  not  pro- 
claimed for  substance  of  doctrine  by  the  Universa- 
lists  of  the  early  nineteenth  century.  They  were 
Unitarian  before  Channing.  They  were  rational 
before  Hedge.  They  insisted  on  the  interpretation 
of  the  Bible  as  literature  before  Matthew  Arnold 
was  born.  They  were  asserting  and  practising 
liberty  of  conscience  and  obedience  to  the  soul's 
highest  instincts  long  before  the  men  were  out 
of  college  who  met  at  Emerson's  call  and  were 
dubbed  ''The  Transcendental  Club."  They  had 
practically  called  the  Bible  "  a  record  of  revela- 
tion "  in  the  Winchester  Confession  in  1803,  two 
generations  before  Dr.  Briggs's  day.  They  had 
grown,  garnered,  and  threshed  all  the  seed  which 
Henry  Ward  Beecher  scattered  broadcast  before 
that  providential  man  had  escaped  from  school. 
The  fatherhood  of  God,  the  brotherhood  of  man, 
the  divine  nature  in  the  human,  salvation  by  char- 
acter, love  the  root  of  all  righteousness  in  God 


HOSEA  BALLOU  301 

and  in  man, —  all  these  gracious  and  convincing 
doctrines  were  formulated,  were  defended,  were 
enforced,  in  the  hearts  and  minds  of  Americans  by 
the  men  who  held  the  faith  in  the  salvation  of  the 
whole  human  race,  from  the  time  that  Hosea 
Ballou  put  forth  the  "Treatise  on  Atonement" 
in  1805. 

To  strive  for  the  establishment  of  these  great 
conclusions  was  to  have  an  immense  share  in 
the  founding  of  religious  liberty.  For  the  true 
emancipation  of  the  spirit  of  man  is  not  at- 
tained in  gaining  the  right  to  think :  it  is  delayed 
until  he  has  learned  to  think  aright.  Sometimes 
he  has  used  his  intellectual  freedom  in  philo- 
sophical waywardness,  and  sometimes  it  has  proved 
a  passport  straight  to  pessimism.  We  are  com- 
ing to  think  more  sanely  of  religious  liberty  in 
regarding  it  not  as  something  final,  an  end  to 
be  attained  for  its  own  sake,  but  as  a  means  to 
an  end.  We  seek  truth  for  the  good  it  will  do, 
the  joy  it  will  bring,  the  deeper  life  it  signifies ; 
and  for  the  same  reason  we  crave  the  freedom 
and  the  right  to  seek.  We  want  liberty  for  what 
it  will  yield,  as  opportunity,  means,  environments 

"  What  vantageth  the  freeman's  lot 
If  shrine  and  home  he  buildeth  not, 
And  what  avails  the  freest  heart 
Except  it  choose  the  better  part  ?  " 


J02  HOSEA  BALLOU 

Hosea  Ballou  enlarged  the  sphere  of  religious 
freedom  in  America  in  a  double  way.  He  made  it 
easier  for  men  to  think  the  highest  things  of  God, 
and  he  made  it  easier  to  believe  that  the  things 
he  thought  were  true.  The  largeness  of  his  work 
we  are  not  even  yet  prepared  to  appreciate.  But 
one  thing  is  certain.  To  attempt  to  write  the  his- 
tory of  religious  liberty  in  America  without  the 
most  generous  consideration  of  Hosea  Ballou's 
influence  and  work,  his  thought  and  his  mission- 
ary labors,  is  as  if  we  undertook  to  write  the  his- 
tory of  political  freedom  in  our  country  with  only 
casual  mention  of  New  England  and  this  "  darhng 
town  of  ours,"  liberty-loving  Boston. 

By  and  by,  when  there  shall  be  an  unprejudiced 
study  of  the  sources  of  American  religious  thought 
in  the  nineteenth  century,  Ballou's  name  will  be 
rescued  from  the  obscurity  into  which  it  has  been 
permitted  to  lapse,  and  he  will  be  recognized  as 
the  great  forerunner  of  the  faith  of  the  twentieth 
century.  He  was  the  clearest  thinker  of  his  time, 
for  he  saw  the  inevitable  conclusion  of  the  whole 
matter  of  theology,  even  as  he  penetrated  to  the 
heart  of  the  matter,  in  making  the  love  and  father- 
hood of  God  pre-eminent  in  his  thought.  He 
was  the  most  courageous  thinker  of  his  time  in 
that  he  dared  to  take  his  stand  on  the  new  ground 
long  before  the  others  had  nerved  themselves  to 


HOSEA  BALLOU  303 

follow.  He  was  the  most  comprehensive  thinker 
of  his  time,  as  appears  from  the  fact  that  there  is 
scarcely  a  point  in  the  subject-matter  of  the  "  new 
theology  "  which  he  did  not  traverse  with  a  sure 
instinct  for  the  propositions  which  a  hundred 
years  of  thought  are  approving  to  the  Christian 
world.  He  was  the  peer  of  Channing  in  the 
power  to  discern  and  to  proclaim  the  will  and 
work  of  God.  He  differed  from  Channing,  as 
Lincoln  diifered  from  Daniel  Webster.  But,  as 
Lincoln's  plain  words  wrought  a  work  which  not 
even  Webster's  eloquence  could  compass,  so  the 
homespun  dialectics  of  Ballou  had  a  power  with 
the  people  which  not  even  the  shining  discourse 
of  Channing  could  exert.  Boston  will  yet  come 
to  a  sense  of  his  greatness  as  a  prophet  of  the 
larger  faith ;  and  side  by  side  with  the  pastor  of 
old  Federal  Street  she  will  place  the  preacher 
of  School  Street  who  for  thirty  years  stood  in  her 
borders,  a  witness  to  the  truth  once  for  all  de- 
livered to  the  saints,  with  unswerving  trust  in  God 
and  in  the  reasonableness  of  his  world  and  in  the 
omnipotence  of  his  love. 

"  He  knew  to  bide  his  time, 
And  can  his  fame  abide, 
Still  patient  in  his  simple  faith  sublime, 
Till  the  wise  years  decide." 


IX 


Ralph   Waldo   Emerson   and   the   Doctrine 
of  the  Divine  Immanence 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON  AND  THE 
DOCTRINE  OF  THE  DIVINE 

IMMANENCE. 

Many  happy  coincidences  suggest  themselves 
as  we  meet  at  this  time  and  in  this  place  to  com- 
memorate the  life  of  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 
He  was  the  descendant  of  no  less  than  eight  gen- 
erations of  Puritan  ministers,  and  his  father's 
name  is  on  yonder  tablet  as  the  fourteenth  minis- 
ter of  this  ancient  church.  On  a  spring  evening 
a  hundred  years  ago  this  devout  and  gracious 
William  Emerson  wrote  in  his  diary, —  "May 
a  5,  1803,  this  day,  whilst  I  was  at  dinner  at 
Governor  Strong's,  my  son  Ralph  Waldo  was 
born."  Little  did  the  father  realize  that  this  entry 
marked  the  most  important  incident  of  his  twelve 
years  of  ministry,  or  that  a  century  later  the 
twenty-fifth  day  of  May  would  be  observed 
throughout  this  and  other  lands  as  the  hundredth 
birthday  of  the  most  distinguished  representative 
of  American  literature.  In  this  church,  then, 
with  its  noble  covenant  of  1630,  still  in  force, 
where  all  that  is  temporary  in  religion  is  omitted 
and  all  that  is  permanent  is  expressed,  in  the 
piety    of   the    parsonage    and    in  its    straitened 


3o8      RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

circumstances  after  his  father's  death,  in  the 
discipline  of  the  Latin  School,  amid  all  the  tra- 
ditions of  Puritan  simplicity  and  of  Thursday 
lectures,  the  boy's  inclination  to  plain  living  and 
high  thinking  was  set.  "  What  a  debt  is  ours," 
he  wrote  thirty  years  later,  "  to  that  old  religion 
which  in  the  childhood  of  most  of  us  dwelt  like 
a  Sabbath  morning  in  the  country  of  New  Eng- 
land, teaching  private  self-denial  and  sorrow !  " 
With  a  peculiar  fitness  and  timeliness  this  church 
of  his  childhood  speaks  the  first  of  the  many 
words  of  commemoration  which  will  be  heard  in 
this  centennial  year. 

The  influence  of  Emerson  has  experienced  all 
possible  vicissitudes.  First  came  a  period  of 
friendly  perplexity  or  embarrassed  hostility, 
when  those  who  felt  called  to  attack  his  teach- 
ing found  themselves  disarmed  by  his  gracious 
and  unresisting  temper.  "  I  esteem  it,"  wrote 
the  saintly  Henry  Ware,  Jr.,  "particularly  un- 
happy to  be  thus  brought  into  a  sort  of  public 
opposition  to  you ;  for  I  have  a  thousand  feelings 
which  draw  me  toward  you.  On  this  account  I 
look  .  .  .  with  no  little  sorrow  to  the  course  which 
your  mind  is  taking."  The  judgment  of  other 
contemporaries  was  less  merciful.  Professor  Alex- 
ander, of  Princeton,  wrote  of  the  Divinity  School 
Address :  "  We  want  words  with  which  to  ex- 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON       309 

press  our  sense  of  the  nonsense  and  impiety  which 
pervade  it.  It  is  a  rhapsody,  obviously  in  imitation 
of  Thomas  Carlyle,  .  .  .  but  without  his  genius." 
The  Christian  Examiner  regarded  the  Address  as 
being  "  neither  good  divinity  nor  good  sense  *' ; 
and  the  Daily  Advertiser^  in  an  article  attributed 
to  Professor  Andrews  Norton,  remarked  :  "  Silly 
women  and  silly  young  men,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
have  been  drawn  away  from  their  Christian  faith, 
if  not  divorced  from  all  that  can  properly  be 
called  religion."  It  is  interesting  to  consider 
what  further  emphasis  Professor  Norton,  the 
representative  theologian  of  the  Harvard  Divin- 
ity School,  might  have  added  to  his  words  of  re- 
buke if  he  had  been  assured  that  even  the  least 
of  his  successors  in  the  faculty  of  that  school 
should  devote  a  Thursday  lecture  in  the  First 
Church  of  Boston  to  a  eulogy  of  Emerson  !  The 
impression  made  on  the  Methodist  sailor-prophet, 
Father  Taylor,  was  more  confused,  but  more  typi- 
cal of  the  general  feeling.  "  Mr.  Emerson,"  said 
Taylor  to  Governor  Andrew,  "  is  one  of  the 
sweetest  creatures  that  God  ever  made.  He 
must  go  to  heaven  when  he  dies ;  for,  if  he  went 
to  hell,  the  devil  would  not  know  what  to  do  with 
him.  But  he  knows  no  more  of  the  religion  of 
the  New  Testament  than  Balaam's  ass  did  of  the 
principles  of  the  Hebrew  grammar." 


3IO       RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

Controversy,  however,  whether  reluctantly  pro- 
posed or  indignantly  sought  by  Emerson's  con- 
temporaries, was  impossible  to  him.  To  attack 
him  was  like  smiting  a  feather  pillow,  which 
yielded  softly  and  presently  took  its  old  shape. 
No  rejoinder  or  self-defence  could  be  extorted 
from  him.  "  I  could  not,"  he  wrote  to  Henry 
Ware,  "give  account  of  myself  if  challenged. 
I  could  not  possibly  give  you  one  of  the  argu- 
ments you  cruelly  hint  at,  on  which  any  doctrine 
of  mine  stands.  For  I  do  not  know  what 
arguments  mean  in  reference  to  any  expression 
of  thought.  I  delight  in  telling  what  I  think ; 
but  if  you  ask  how  1  dare  to  say  so,  or  why  it  is 
so,  I  am  the  most  helpless  of  men."  What  could 
the  theological  rationalists  do  with  an  adversary 
who  retreated  behind  the  defence  of  helplessness! 
So  fought  they  as  men  beating  the  air.  Their 
contention  was  with  an  atmosphere,  which  could 
not  be  argued  against,  but  which  must  be  either 
excluded  or  breathed.  Even  the  satisfaction 
which  might  be  derived  from  the  sense  of  persecu- 
tion was  banished  from  Emerson's  serene  and 
sagacious  mood.  "  Let  me  never  fall,"  he  wrote 
in  his  journal,  "  into  the  vulgar  mistake  of  dream- 
ing that  I  am  persecuted  whenever  I  am  contra- 
dicted. ...  A  few  sour  faces,  a  few  biting 
paragraphs,  are  but  a  cheap  expiation  for  all  these 
shortcomings  of  mine." 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON       311 

Such  a  temper  of  detachment,  tranquillity,  and 
patient  confidence  could  not  but  hasten  the  second 
phase  of  Emerson's  influence, —  the  period  of 
imitation.  That  efflorescence  of  romanticism  and 
naturalism  which  appeared  in  New  England 
about  1840,  and  which  appropriated  to  itself — 
with  questionable  accuracy  —  the  title  of  Tran- 
scendentalism, was  a  very  varied  growth.  Some- 
times, as  in  Emerson,  it  was  a  genuine  application 
of  the  philosophy  of  Kant  and  Fichte,  of  Coleridge 
and  Wordsworth.  Sometimes  it  was,  as  Mr. 
Frothingham,  in  his  History  of  Transcendental- 
ism, has  remarked,  little  more  than  that  a  "  feeling 
was  abroad  that  all  things  must  be  new  in  a  new 
world."  Orestes  Brownson  wrote  in  1840,  "All 
are  able  to  detect  the  supernatural  because  all 
have  the  supernatural  in  themselves."  Margaret 
Fuller  published  T^he  Dial  from  1 840-44 ;  and 
the  "  Orphic  Sayings  "  of  Alcott  bewildered  or 
amused,  as  the  temper  of  the  reader  might  receive 
them.  The  Scriptures  of  other  religions,  Chinese, 
Buddhist,  Persian,  were  for  the  first  time  access- 
ible, and  enlarged  the  horizon  of  religious  sym- 
pathy and  unity.  "  Tell  me,  brothers,"  wrote  one 
of  the  poets  of  Transcendentalism,  Christopher 
Cranch, — 

"  Tell  me,  brothers,  what  are  we, 
Spirits  bathing  in  the  sea 
Of  Deity.'* 


312       RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

The  reversion  to  simplicity  took  shape  in  the 
Brook  Farm  enterprise  in  1842,  where  some 
seventy  spirits  found  a  modest  substitute  for  bath- 
ing in  the  sea  of  Deity  in  farm  labor  and  high  con- 
verse by  the  sluggish  brook  of  West  Roxbury. 
Hawthorne  was  there  for  a  single  month  ;  but,  as 
he  frankly  wrote,  "  chopping  wood  and  turning 
the  grindstone  all  the  forenoon  disturbs  the  equi- 
librium." "  A  man's  soul  may  be  buried  under  a 
dung-heap  just  as  well  as  under  a  pile  of  money." 
*^  Is  it  a  praiseworthy  matter  that  I  have  spent  five 
golden  months  in  providing  fodder  for  cows  and 
horses  ?  It  is  not  so  !  "  All  these  dreams  and 
schemes  were  laid  before  Emerson  as  the  high  priest 
of  Transcendentalism.  Many  a  young  minister, 
catching  the  method  — or  lack  of  method  —  of 
Emerson,  but  quite  unvisited  by  the  spirit  of 
Emerson,  cultivated  the  manner  of  Orphic  utter- 
ance, of  disconnected  aphorism  and  vague  aspira- 
tion, talked  in  a  large  way  of  "  Socrates,  Jesus, 
and  Mohammed,"  or  even  of  "  Socrates,  Jesus, 
and  myself,"  and  poured  upon  his  undiscern- 
ing  and  diminishing  congregation  an  unfertiliz- 
ing  stream  of  Emerson  and  water.  Many  a  young 
writer  fancied  that  the  secret  of  Emerson  was  a 
trick  of  style,  just  as  one  observer  is  reported  to 
have  said  that  the  power  of  Phillips  Brooks  was 
in  the  use    of  his  hands ;  and  much   prose  and 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON       313 

verse  was  written  which  had  nothing  In  them  of 
Emerson  but  his  fragmentarlness,  and,  Instead  of 
living  actors,  gave  us  jerky  puppets.  Mystics 
hke  Jones  Very  sought  out  the  seer  at  Concord. 
Reformers  came  to  discuss  Brook  Farm  or  the 
still  more  helpless  scheme  of  Fruitlands.  All 
these  Issues  and  echoes  of  TranscendentaHsm, 
however,  were  confronted  by  the  singular  sanity 
and  serenity  of  Emerson's  mind.  He  could  not 
be  induced  to  become  a  fanatic,  a  communist,  a 
vegetarian,  a  Delphic  oracle,  or  a  come-outer.  He 
disappointed  many  an  agitator.  He  was  a  con- 
servative among  the  apostles  of  the  "  Newness." 
"  At  the  name  of  a  society,"  he  wrote,  "  all  my 
repulsions  play,  all  my  quills  rise."  "  I  wished," 
he  said  of  Brook  Farm,  "  to  be  thawed,  to  be 
made  nobly  mad ;  .  .  .  but  this  scheme  was  only 
arithmetic  and  comfort.  .  .  .  Not  once  could  I  be 
Inflamed  :  ...  my  voice  faltered  and  fell."  Jones 
Very  charged  him  with  coldness.  "  You  see  the 
truth  better  than  others,  yet  I  felt  that  your 
spirit  was  not  quite  right.  It  was  as  if  a  vein  of 
cold  air  blew  across  me."  What  really  met  the 
young  poet's  hectic  mood  was  a  vein  of  wisdom 
and  restraint,  an  air  of  Yankee  shrewdness,  which 
like  a  keen  wind  across  the  Concord  meadows 
swept  away  from  Emerson  all  unhealthy  Introspec- 
tion, and  kept  him  rugged,  sagacious,  alert,  con- 


314       RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

trolled,  the  despair  of  imitators  and  the  disap- 
pointment of  the  dreamers  and  schemers  of  his 
day. 

As  the  influence  of  Emerson  receded  a  little 
into  the  region  of  history,  still  another  attitude  of 
mind  concerning  him  became  conspicuous, —  the 
attitude  of  criticism.  Sometimes  it  approached 
the  manner  of  condescension,  as  in  the  judgment 
of  Matthew  Arnold  :  "  Emerson  is  not  one  of  the 
great  poets,  the  great  writers.  Emerson  cannot 
be  called  with  justice  a  great  philosophical  writer.'* 
Sometimes  it  has  a  more  audacious  air  of  patron- 
age, as  when  an  American  critic  remarks  that 
Emerson,  "  had  the  juvenile  pedantry  of  renas- 
cent New  England,"  and  "was  limited  by  the 
national  inexperience."  Sometimes  it  is  the  frank 
confession  of  the  man  of  system  that  the  man 
without  a  system  is  not  the  man  for  him.  This 
is  the  impression  made  on  so  great  and  so  sym- 
pathetic a  critic  as  Martineau.  "  The  failure  of 
coherent  continuity  of  thought,"  writes  Martineau 
of  Emerson  "  leaves  his  fine  material  in  an  un- 
organized and  fathomless  condition.  Much  as  I 
love  the  man,  I  seek  in  vain  to  learn  from  him. 
The  fault  is  probably  in  me." 

But  what  has  been  the  fate  of  Emerson's  in- 
fluence, as  it  has  thus  survived  these  periods 
of  hostility,  of  imitation,  and  of  criticism  ?     Ob- 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON       315 

viously,  it  has  been  a  steadily  growing  influence. 
The  spiritual  life  of  the  modern  world  finds  itself 
more  and  more  nourished  by  Emerson's  writings. 
His  cardinal  doctrine,  which  once  appeared  to 
many  critics  perilous  to  Christian  faith,  has 
become  the  common  property  of  all  rational 
Christians ;  and,  while  more  than  one  system  of 
philosophy  has  had  its  day  and  ceased  to  be,  the 
loosely  scattered  seed  of  Emerson's  prose  and 
verse,  though  much  of  it  fell  on  stony  and  shallow 
ground,  has  found  an  increasing  area  of  congenial 
soil  and  an  abundant  harvest.  In  the  year  1870 
I  happened  to  be  one  of  the  very  small  group  of 
college  students  who  listened  to  the  only  course 
of  Emerson's  lectures  which  made  any  attempt  at 
academic  form.  In  these  university  lectures, 
where,  if  anywhere,  one  should  look  for  conscious 
system,  and  which  made  one  part  of  a  scheme 
of  graduate  instruction  in  philosophy,  Emerson 
began  by  disclaiming  any  attempt  at  system. 
"  System-makers,"  he  said,  were  "  gnats  grasping 
the  universe."  What  he  had  to  oifer  was  but 
"  anecdotes  of  the  intellect,"  a  "  farmer's  almanac 
of  mental  moods,"  "  a  tally  of  things  to 
thoughts."  We  were  to  "  watch  the  stream  of 
thought,  running  along  by  it  a  little  way,"  but 
seeing  only  a  little,  knowing  that  "  the  stream  is 
hollowing  out  its  own  bed."     I   can  well  recall 


3i6       RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

the  hopelessness  with  which  the  young  note- 
takers,  fresh  from  one  course  on  the  British 
Logician  and  another  on  the  Critique  of  the 
Pure  Reason,  closed  their  note-books  with  a 
sense  of  being  let  out  of  school,  and  ran  gladly 
along  by  the  stream  of  thought,  while  this  serene 
observer  pointed  out  its  eddies  and  shallows,  its 
destiny  and  obstacles,  its  light  and  shade.  "  This 
subject,"  concludes  one  lecture,  "  is  to  be  finished 
next  time  '* ;  and  the  dingy  note-book  comments 
flippantly,  "  To  what  subject  does  he  here 
refer?"  Yet  here  is  the  strange  conclusion  of 
this  unacademic,  unscholastic  influence, —  that, 
when  thirty  years  later  Harvard  University  seeks 
for  a  name  to  set  on  a  building  to  be  devoted  to 
philosophy,  it  is  the  name  of  Emerson  which 
seems  most  representative  of  the  intellectual 
ideals  of  America.  Psychologists  and  metaphy- 
sicians, teachers  of  theology  and  of  sociology, 
men  of  the  academic  habit  and  of  technical  dis- 
cipline, all  have  agreed  that  the  comprehensive 
purpose  of  philosophy  will  be  best  indicated  by 
the  recognition  of  insight,  sagacity,  and  fearless- 
ness as  the  conditions  of  philosophic  progress,  and 
of  ethical  idealism  as  its  goal,  and  that  these 
fundamental  principles  will  find  peculiar  inspira- 
tion in  a  building  which  shall  be  known  as  "  Em- 
erson Hall." 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON       317 

What  then,  we  ask  ourselves,  are  the  charac- 
teristics which  through  all  these  vicissitudes  of 
opposition  and  criticism  have  perpetuated  the 
influence  of  Emerson  and  made  him,  as  Matthew 
Arnold  said,  "  the  friend  and  aider  of  those  who 
would  walk  in  the  spirit "  ?  How  is  it  that 
Emerson  is  a  prophet  of  religious  liberty?  What 
is  the  way  of  spiritual  freedom  which  he  has 
shown,  and  whither  does  it  lead  ?  Dismissing 
for  the  moment  our  literary  judgments  of  Emer- 
son as  essayist  or  poet,  guarding  ourselves  from 
the  charm  of  incidental  aphorisms  and  the  dis- 
tinction of  occasional  thoughts,  what  is  it  that  has 
penetrated  religion  and  philosophy  like  an  atmos- 
phere, and  has  invited  thousands  of  hearts  to 
throw  open  their  doors  of  welcome,  as  when  one 
stands  upon  his  threshold  and  breathes  the  morn- 
ing air  of  the  first  day  of  approaching  spring? 
It  might  be  anticipated  that  an  answer  to  this 
question  would  be  by  no  means  easy  to  reach. 
CHmatic  influences  are  difficult  to  analyze.  An 
atmosphere  is  lost  when  it  is  decomposed.  It 
would  seem  to  be  as  hard  to  fix  and  define  the 
shifting  occasionalism  of  Emerson  as  to  report  all 
the  moods  and  gusts  and  clouds  and  sunshine  of 
a  New  England  April  day.  This  diversity,  how- 
ever, is  but  the  form  of  Emerson's  teaching. 
Beneath  it  lies  an  unusual  singleness,  one  might 


3i8      RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

almost  say,  a  monotone  of  thought.  It  is  as  if 
in  our  shifting  spring  one  kept  a  thermometer 
where  it  was  sheltered  from  sudden  changes,  and 
was  surprised  to  find  the  temperature  of  the  day 
so  nearly  uniform.  That  which  gave  to  Emerson 
his  sense  of  power,  and  made  him  able  to  say, 
"  If  the  single  man  plant  himself  on  his  instinct 
and  there  abide,  the  whole  world  will  come  round 
to  him,"  was  his  confidence  in  two  fundamental 
principles,  which  became  clear  to  him  —  one  might 
almost  say,  seemed  were  revealed  to  him  —  in  early 
life,  and  which  sustained  him  throughout  his 
career.  It  is,  in  fact,  quite  startling  to  recall  how 
young  a  man  he  was  when  he  first  clearly  an- 
nounced these  principles.  "  Nature,"  appeared 
in  1836,  when  its  author  was  but  thirty-three 
years  old  ;  the  first  Phi  Beta  Kappa  oration,  in 
1837;  th^  Divinity  School  Address,  in  1838; 
the  lectures  on  "The  Present  Age,"  in  1839; 
those  on.  "The  Times,"  in  1841;  and  in  these 
early  writings  the  doctrine  of  Emerson  concerning 
man,  God,  life,  and  duty,  is  set  forth  with  such 
lucidity  and  absoluteness  that  nothing  was  left  for 
his  remaining  forty  years  of  life  but  to  amplify, 
apply,  illustrate,  and  reiterate,  with  infinitely  vary- 
ing notes  of  expression,  the  creed  he  had  so  soon 
attained.  His  career  was  like  some  great  work 
of  thematic  music,  where  the  fundamental  move- 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON      319 

ment  is  first  boldly  struck,  and  then,  with  an  in- 
creasing richness  as  the  various  instruments  take 
up  the  theme,  the  original  motif  is  heard 
through  all  the  diversities  and  complexities  of  the 
master's  art.  And  what  were  these  two  spiritual 
axioms  which  were  announced  before  Emerson 
was  forty  years  old  ;  the  themes  on  which  his 
thought,  like  an  artist's  fingers,  dwells  with  loving 
reiteration,  and  to  which,  when  he  is  seventy-six 
years  old,  he  returns  in  his  lectures  on  "The 
Preacher,"  as  an  initial  theme  is  restated  at  a 
symphony's  close  ?  They  were  :  first,  the  prin- 
ciple that  truth  should  be  detached  from  person- 
ality,—  the  doctrine  that  the  soul  knows  no 
persons;  and,  secondly,  the  principle  of  the 
present  revelation, —  the  doctrine  of  the  imma- 
nence of  God.  Let  us  try  to  estimate  the  signi- 
ficance and  permanence  of  these  two  foundations 
of  Emerson's  thought,  which  are  distinguished  by 
him  as  cause  and  consequence,  but  which  in 
reality  appear  to  be  simply  the  negative  and  the 
positive  aspects  of  a  single  truth. 

The  doctrine  that  the  soul  knows  no  persons 
is  a  negative  proposition.  It  is  a  protest  against 
the  substitution  of  the  person  of  Jesus  for  the 
ideals  of  the  soul  as  the  source  of  spiritual  power. 
"  Christianity,"  Emerson  says,  "  as  it  is  commonly 


320      RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

taught,  is  not  the  doctrine  of  the  soul,  but  an 
exaggeration  of  the  personal."  "  It  has  dwelt,  it 
dwells,  with  noxious  exaggerations  about  the  per- 
son of  Jesus."  "  B^  Jiis  holy  thought  Jesus 
serves  us,  and  thus  only."  "The  preachers  do 
not  see  that  they  make  his  gospel  not  glad."  "  Do 
not  degrade  the  life  and  dialogue  of  Christ  .  .  . 
by  insulation  and  peculiarity.  Let  them  lie  as 
they  befell,  alive  and  warm,  part  of  human  life 
and  of  the  landscape  and  of  the  cheerful  day." 
It  was  a  protest  which  the  New  England  Protest- 
antism of  fifty  years  ago  needed  to  hear.  Pro- 
vinciahsm  and  Pharisaism  threatened  both  Evan- 
gelical and  Unitarian  preaching.  "Admiration 
for  [Christ],"  said  Emerson,  "runs  away  with 
reverence  for  the  human  soul,  .  .  .  and  inclines 
the  manly  reader  to  lay  down  the  New  Testa- 
ment, to  take  up  the  Pagan  philosophers." 
"The  base  doctrine  of  the  majority  of  voices 
usurps  the  place  of  [immediate  inspiration]  ;  and 
miracles,  prophecy,  poetry,  the  ideal  life,  the 
holy  life,  exist  as  ancient  history  merely."  "  The 
idioms  of  [Christ's]  language  .  .  .  have  usurped 
the  place  of  his  truth,  and  the  churches  are  built 
not  on  his  principles,  but  on  his  ^  tropes.'  "  Thus, 
what  has  come  to  be  called  a  "  Christocentric " 
theology  appeared  to  Emerson  both  degrading 
of  the    nature   of  Christ  and    restrictive    of  the 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON      321 

nature  of  man.  Yet,  when  this  reaction  from 
traditionalism  was  enlarged  by  Emerson  into  a 
positive  axiom,  it  became  a  doctrine  which  re- 
ligious thought  during  the  last  fifty  years  has 
largely  outgrown.  To  advance  from  the  his- 
torical proposition  that  Jesus  is  a  spiritual  leader 
rather  than  a  dogmatic  authority  to  the  philo- 
sophical proposition  that  the  soul  knows  no 
persons  is  to  take  a  long  step.  It  is  one  thing 
to  fix  the  place  of  Jesus  in  history  :  it  is  quite 
another  thing  to  eliminate  the  person  of  Jesus 
from  the  movement  of  history.  Yet  this  seemed 
the  step  which  Emerson  was  inclined  to  take,  and 
this  was  certainly  the  inference  which  less  guarded 
minds  derived  from  the  doctrine  that  "  the  soul 
knows  no  persons."  "The  dogma  of  the  mystic 
office  of  Christ  being  dropped,"  .  .  .  said  Emer- 
son, "  'tis  impossible  to  maintain  the  old  emphasis 
on  his  personality ;  and  it  recedes,  as  all  persons 
must,  before  the  sublimity  of  the  moral  laws." 
Much  more  sweepingly  Theodore  Parker  af- 
firmed:  "  It  is  hard  to  see  why  the  great  truths 
of  Christianity  rest  on  the  personal  authority  of 
Jesus  more  than  the  axioms  of  geometry  rest  on 
the  personal  experience  of  Euclid  or  Archimedes." 
And  in  his  later  edition  he  added,  in  more  auda- 
cious form,  "  If  Christianity  be  true  at  all,  it 
would   be  just  as  true  if  Herod  or  Catiline  had 


322      RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

taught  it."  This  detachment  ofjruth  from  perr_ 
sons  became  the  shibboleth  of  Trajis^eiide n talis m j  __ 
and  what  in  Emerson  was  a  trumpet-call  to  the 
defence  of  the  human  soul  became  in  others  a 
shrill  scream  of  ignorant  egotism.  The  new  and 
imperfect  acquaintance  with  Oriental  religions  con- 
tributed to  this  emancipation  from  the  Christian 
tradition.  It  was  vaguely  fancied  that  these 
other  Scriptures  met  needs  of  the  heart  which 
Christianity  did  not  satisfy,  and  that  religion,  to 
be  free,  must  be  detached  from  the  person  of 
Jesus.  I  remember  a  fellow-student  of  theology 
whose  soul  still  wanted  a  person  to  interpret  it, 
but  who  had  read  just  enough  fragments  of  Em- 
erson to  make  him  fancy  that  Christian  loyalty 
was  getting  old-fashioned,  saying  to  me  one  day, 
"  I  have  found  the  Messiah  !  "  "  And  who  is 
he?"  I  asked.  "Zoroaster,"  he  answered  with- 
out even  a  smile. 

What  is  the  historical  outcome  of  this  aspect 
of  Transcendentalism  ?  I  think  we  must  con- 
clude that  it  represented  a  temporary  reaction  of 
thought,  and  that  the  process  of  the  years  has 
brought  us  where — whatever  may  be  held  of 
the  truths  of  science,  as  independent  of  the  char- 
acter of  scientific  men  —  the  detachment  of  truth 
from  personality  in  matters  of  ethical  and  spir- 
itual   concerns    is   seen   to    be   impossible.     The 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON      ^n 

whole  movement  of  thought  during  the  last  gen- 
eration renews  the  assurance  that  progress  is 
made  through  personahty  ;  that,  instead  of  the 
soul  knowing  no  persons,  the  soul  is  known  best 
through  persons ;  that  spiritual  truth  must  be 
discerned  by  spiritual  men ;  that,  as  Bunsen  said, 
"  personality  is  the  lever  of  history " ;  that, 
as  Phillips  Brooks  constantly  affirmed,  "  every 
man's  power  is  his  idea  multiplied  and  projected 
through  his  personality."  It  is  the  reward  of 
the  pure  in  heart,  says  Jesus,  that  they  shall 
see  God.  The  vision  of  the  perfect  truth  is 
reserved  for  the  perfect  man.  The  lens  of  the 
instrument  must  be  pure  before  the  stars  come 
into  view.  Character  creates  insight.  The  truth 
is  inseparable  from  the  person.  This  is  a  teach- 
ing which  the  influence  of  Jesus  himself  illustrates 
and  confirms.  Nothing  could  more  distort  the 
gospel  than  to  say  that  "  Christianity  would  be 
just  as  true  if  Herod  or  Catiline  had  taught  it," 
for  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  that  they  should 
have  taught  it.  Herod  was  not  likely  to  say, 
"  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,"  or  Catiline, 
''  Turn  the  other  cheek  also."  The  teaching  of 
Jesus,  alike  for  those  who  heard  it  and  for  those 
who  read  it,  is  an  expression  of  the  character  of 
Jesus.  The  person  incarnates  the  truth.  The 
word  is  made  flesh.     The  loyalty  of  the  Christian 


324      RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

world  is  not  to   impersonal  truth,  but  to  truth 
expressed  through  personality. 

This  interdependence  of  the  message  and  the 
man  make  the  whole  history  of  ethical  and  re- 
ligious thought.  The  truth  that  interprets, 
strengthens,  makes  free,  has  behind  it  the  free, 
strong  interpreter.  No  spiritual  message  can 
permanently  direct  the  world  which  does  not 
issue  from  a  true  pure  life.  The  soul  of  the 
world  not  only  knows  persons,  but  knows  no 
other  guides.  Indeed,  no  finer  witness  of  this 
spiritual  principle  can  be  named  than  Emerson 
himself  Incisive,  illuminating,  enlarging  as  his 
message  is,  who  can  separate  it  from  the  person 
which,  on  every  page,  is  so  unconsciously  dis- 
closed,—  the  unworldly,  detached,  serene,  grave, 
yet  smiling  master  ?  Who  does  not  recognize 
that  the  thought  of  Emerson  is  directed  by  his 
character,  that  the  soul  of  his  writings  is  the  soul 
of  a  person,  that  the  purity  of  his  heart  gives 
him  discernment  of  the  Eternal  ?  Here,  in  fact, 
is  Emerson's  own  proof  of  immortality,  in  verses 
which  to  thoughtful  readers  have  brought  more 
rational  consolation  in  sorrow  than  perhaps 
any  word  since  the  New  Testament.  The 
whole  argument  of  the  "  Threnody "  is  based 
upon  the  principle  of  personality.  Emerson 
had  seen  in  his  home  the  spiritual  traits  which 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON      325 

must  survive  and  remain  recognizable.  This,  he 
wrote,  is 

"  The  verdict  which  accumulates 
From  lengthening  scroll  of  human  fates, 
Saying,  PFhat  is  excellent^ 
As  God  lives^  is  permanent ; 
Hearts  are  dust^  hearts'  loves  remain^ 
Hearts  love  will  meet  thee  again  I  " 

In  an  unpublished  address  of  Phillips  Brooks, 
he  remarks,  "  What  impresses  us  most  in  the 
most  God-like  men  we  ever  see  is  the  inability 
to  tell  in  them  what  of  their  power  is  intellectual 
and  what  is  moral."  That  was  precisely  what 
impressed  one  in  Phillips  Brooks  himself,  and 
what  perplexed  those  who  debated  whether  he 
should  be  called  a  thinker  or  merely  a  noble  per- 
son. He  was  both.  The  peculiar  refinement 
and  insight  of  his  thought  proceeded  from  the 
peculiar  elevation  and  discipline  of  his  character. 
The  unflecked  lens  permitted  the  larger  view. 
The  pure  in  heart  saw  God.  It  was  the  same 
with  Emerson.  Out  from  behind  his  wise  judg- 
ment comes  the  wise,  shrewd,  observant  teacher. 
When  he  says,  "  That  is  best  which  gives  me  to 
myself,"  we  believe  it,  because  he  thus  possessed 
himself  and  needed  few  other  possessions.  How 
could    he  teach  sanity,  patience,  the  dignity  of 


326      RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

common  things,  the  law  of  the  scholar's  life,  the 
divinity  of  the  natural  man,  if  he  had  not  made 
these  principles  the  habits  of  his  life,  the  com- 
panions of  his  daily  walks,  the  marks  of  his  own 
character?  In  a  passage  in  "Nature"  it  seems 
to  be  rather  the  person  that  makes  the  truth  than 
the  truth  which  uses  persons.  ''We  create,"  he 
writes,  "our  own  world  through  the  perfection  of 
our  own  soul."  "Talent,"  he  goes  on  in  his 
essay  on  "Worship,"  "links  with  character." 
"  The  moment  of  your  loss  of  faith  will  be  the 
solstice  of  genius."  Emerson,  in  short,  is  a 
singular  contradiction  of  the  thesis  that  the  soul 
knows  no  persons ;  for  his  influence  is  in  the 
highest  degree  that  of  a  person,  of  whose  un- 
stained and  responsive  soul  the  essay  and  the 
poem  are  the  disclosure  and  expression. 

The  doctrine  that  the  soul  knows  no  person 
would  seem,  then,  to  be  diflicult  to  maintain. 
Indeed  there  are  many  indications  that  Emerson 
himself  felt  no  command  to  follow  the  losic 
of  his  phrase.  Other  minds  —  more  systematic 
perhaps,  but  less  sagacious  —  might  use  his  doc- 
trine to  depreciate  the  personality  of  Jesus  or  to 
deny  the  personality  of  God,  but  neither  criti- 
cism nor  pantheism  disturbed  the  balance  of 
Emerson's  thought.  His  recognition  of  the  spir- 
itual leadership  of  Jesus  Christ  is  glad  and  un- 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON      327 

restrained.  "  Alone  in  all  history,"  he  says, 
"  Jesus  estimated  the  greatness  of  men.  Having 
seen  that  the  law  in  us  is  commanding,  he  would 
not  suffer  it  to  be  commanded.  Boldly  with 
hand  and  heart  and  life  he  declared  it  was  God. 
[His]  name  is  not  so  much  written  as  ploughed 
into  the  history  of  the  world."  He  was  "  the 
only  soul  in  history  who  has  appreciated  the  worth 
of  man."  "All  the  maxims  of  Christ  are  true  to 
the  core  of  the  world."  "  Since  the  parrot-world 
will  be  swift  to  renounce  the  name  of  Christ,  .  .  . 
it  behooves  the  lover  of  God  to  love  that  lover 
of  God."  The  same  reverence  for  personality 
appears  in  his  thought  of  God.  "  I  cannot  find," 
he  says,  indeed,  "  any  truth  in  saying  that  God  is 
personal."  But  why  is  the  soul  of  things  thus 
impersonal  to  Emerson?  It  is  because  he  de- 
fines personality  by  limitation.  "To  represent 
God  as  an  individual,"  he  says,  "  is  to  shut  him 
out  of  my  consciousness.  He  is  then  but  a  great 
man.  I  feel  that  there  is  some  profanation  in 
saying  he  is  personal."  Yet  in  the  same  passage 
of  his  journal  he  reaffirms  the  higher  personal- 
ity. "  I  deny  personality  to  God,  because  it  is 
too  little,  not  too  much.  .  .  .  [He  is]  the  life  of 
life,  the  reason  of  reason,  the  love  of  love." 
Here  there  is  no  thought  of  a  soul  without  a 
person,  but  only  the  expression  of  a  doubt  con- 


328      RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

cerning  the  use  of  a  word,  as  of  one  who  had 
perhaps  read  the  dictum  of  Strauss  :  "  Personal- 
ity is  separated  existence.  The  absolute  is  the 
all-embracing.  .  .  .  Absolute  personality  is  thus  a 
contradiction  in  terms."  How  welcome  to  Emer- 
son would  have  been  the  movement  of  modern 
philosophy  which  finds  in  Lotze  its  best  expres- 
sion, and  in  which  personality  appears  not  as  a 
sign  of  limitation,  but  of  completeness,  and  can 
be  affirmed  not  of  the  fragmentary  conditions  of 
human  life,  but  only  of  the  completeness  and  con- 
tinuity of  God  !  "  Personality,"  says  Lotze,  in 
the  final  words  of  his  great  work,  "  can  be  com- 
plete in  an  infinite  being  only  :  ...  of  the  person- 
ality of  finite  beings  we  have  little  right  to  speak. 
It  is  an  ideal.  Like  every  ideal,  it  is  in  its  ful- 
ness his  only  who  is  infinite ;  and,  like  every 
perfect  good,  it  is  ours  only  conditionally  and 
imperfectly  to  share." 

It  may  then  be  surmised  that  the  doctrine  of 
Emerson  which  detaches  truth  from  personality 
was  not  the  teaching  which  most  shaped  his 
thought ;  and  it  is  quite  evident  that  the  later 
progress  of  religious  philosophy  has  led  to  a  new 
appreciation  of  the  personal  element  in  God,  in 
Christ,  in  history,  in  philosophy,  in  modern  life. 
When  we  turn,  however,  to  the  second  principle 
of  Emerson's  spiritual  philosophy,  our  judgment 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON      329 

must  be  quite  reversed ;  for  here  we  meet  the 
positive,  abiding,  timeless  aspect  of  his  thought. 
"  Men  have  come,"  says  Emerson,  "  to  speak  of 
the  revelation  as  somewhat  long  ago  given  and 
done,  as  if  God  were  dead."  Over  against  a  back- 
ward-looking, historical,  unassimilated  faith  Emer- 
son presents  the  human  soul,  the  moral  law,  the 
present,  immanent,  self-reveahng  God.  "  The 
poor  Jews,"  he  wrote,  "  of  the  wilderness,  cried : 
Let  not  the  Lord  speak  to  us  ;  let  Moses  speak 
to  us.  But  the  simple  and  sincere  soul  makes  the 
contrary  prayer :  Let  no  intruder  come  between 
Thee  and  me ;  let  me  know  it  is  Thy  will,  and  I 
ask  no  more."  "  The  nameless  Thought,  the 
nameless  Power,  the  super-personal  Heart, — 
[we]  shall  repose  in  that."  In  a  word,  Emerson 
is  a  mystic,  one  of  that  long  succession  of  teachers 
of  all  religious  faiths  who  are  witnesses  of  the 
present  Holy  Spirit,  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul 
of  man.  Extravagant,  excessive,  ecstatic,  quietis- 
tic,  unappreciative  of  the  life  of  thought  and  con- 
duct may  mystics  have  been ;  yet  they  form  a 
thread  of  the  pure  gold  of  natural  piety,  which 
runs  through  the  whole  fabric  of  religious  his- 
tory, and  gives  it  richness,  beauty,  and  strength. 
Hindu  Yogis  and  Greek  ascetics,  neo-Platonists 
and  Persian  Sufis,  mediaeval  priests  and  French 
(^uietists,  English  Quakers  and  German  Romanti- 


330      RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

cists, —  a  strange  procession  they  make  as  they 
march  across  the  stage  of  history,  with  their 
different  garb  and  actions,  their  various  habits  and 
dreams ;  yet  all  unite  in  the  one  confession 
that  without  mediation  or  indirection,  the  spirit 
of  the  Eternal  speaks  to  the  waiting  mind  of  man. 
Whether  it  be  Philo,  the  Jew,  affirming  that 
"  Contemplation  of  the  divine  essence  is  the 
noblest  exercise  of  man,"  or  a  Christian  Platonist 
repeating,  "  The  soul  receives  the  hidden  word 
which  God  utters  in  the  inward  place,"  or  the 
unknown  mediaeval  author  of  the  "  Theologia 
Germanica,"  —  the  book  which  Luther  set  next  to 
the  Bible  and  Saint  Augustine, —  saying,  "  He  who 
is  imbued  with  the  eternal  light  ...  is  a  partaker 
of  the  divine  nature " ;  whether  it  be  Jacob 
Boehme,  saying,  "  The  spirit  of  man  contains  a 
spark  from  the  power  and  light  of  God,"  or 
Madame  Guyon  writing  in  her  autobiography, 
"  My  soul  passed  wholly  and  altogether  into  its 
God,  even  as  a  little  drop  of  water  cast  into  the 
sea  receives  the  qualities  of  the  sea," — it  is  all 
one  song  of  confident,  personal  faith  ;  and  this 
lyric  of  the  soul  is  taken  up  in  grave,  re- 
strained, yet  unfaltering  utterance  by  Emerson. 
"  The  relations  of  the  soul  to  the  Divine  spirit," 
he  says,  "  are  so  pure  that  it  is  profane  to  seek  to 
interpose  helps."     "  Whenever  a  mind  is  simple 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON      331 

and  receives  a  Divine  wisdom,  old  things  pass 
away."  "  God  builds  his  temple  in  the  heart." 
"  In  all  ages,  to  all  men  it  saith,  I  am,  and  he 
who  hears  it  feels  the  impiety  of  wandering  from 
this  revelation  to  any  record  or  any  rival." 

Emerson,  then,  is  a  mystic.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  curious  and  instructive  facts  in  religious 
history  that  each  vigorous  movement  of  spiritual 
progress,  having  had  its  era  of  theological  recon- 
struction, emerges  at  last  into  some  expression  of 
mysticism.  It  is  like  a  plant  that  first  takes  firm 
root  upon  the  earth  and  slowly  develops  its  hard 
stem,  and  then,  as  if  by  the  miracle  of  a  single 
night,  blooms  in  a  flower  which  seems  of  quite 
another  nature  from  the  stalk  on  which  it  grew. 
Out  of  the  formal  theology  and  ritual  of  the 
Mediaeval  Church  bloomed  one  day  the  beauty 
of  Tauler's  preaching  ;  out  of  the  severity  of 
English  Puritanism  started  the  consciousness  of 
the  Inner  Light  in  George  Fox  ;  out  of  the  New 
England  tradition  of  conscientious  self-examina- 
tion and  individual  responsibility  bloomed  the 
mysticism  of  Emerson.  It  is  impossible  to 
detach  the  flower  from  its  stock  or  to  conceive  of 
Emerson  as  without  a  root  in  the  Puritan  tradi- 
tion. Diff^er  as  he  may  from  the  Puritan  theology, 
he  could  have  appeared  nowhere  else  than  in  a 
Puritan  Church. 


232      RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

"  We  love  the  venerable  house 
Our  fathers  built  to  God," 

says  Emerson's  hymn.  He  is  a  product  of  New 
England  Congregationalism.  His  roots  were  in 
this  Church.  The  movement  of  religious  liberty 
had  here  its  rugged  growth  of  thought  and  con- 
duct, and  at  last  bloomed  in  the  fragrant  flower 
of  the  mystic's  creed. 

Emerson  is  a  mystic.  That  is  the  quality 
which  to  many  minds  makes  him  ineffective,  per- 
plexing, self-contradictory,  unconvincing.  They 
ask  for  orderliness,  and  he  gives  them  paragraphs 
where  each  phrase  is,  as  he  said,  "  an  infinitely 
repelling  particle."  They  look  for  argument, 
and  he  replies  that  he  does  not  know  what  argu- 
ment means  when  applied  to  a  matter  of  thought. 
They  doubt  his  affirmation  of  the  Eternal,  and 
he  makes  of  their  very  doubt  a  witness  of  his 
God:  — 

^'  They  reckon  ill  who  leave  me  out ; 

When  me  they  fly,  I  am  the  wings ; 
I  am  the  doubter  and  the  doubt, 

And  I  the  hymn  the  Brahmin  sings." 

Thus  to  the  rationahst,  the  system-maker,  the 
"understanding"  of  man, —  to  use  Emerson*s 
free  adaptation  of  German  philosophy, —  as  dis- 
tinguished   from    the    reason,    the    mystic,    with 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON      :^22 

his  assurance  of  things  not  seen  or  proved,  his 
indifference  to  history,  tradition,  and  association, 
his  open  vision  of  the  present  God,  remains  un- 
interpretable,  illogical,  misleading,  a  philosophical 
paradox,  an  eddy  in  the  main  movement  of 
religious  history.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  here 
is  the  quality  which  to  thousands  of  readers  gives 
Emerson  a  unique  place  among  the  prophets  of 
the  soul.  The  mystic  does  not  guess  or  prove 
or  laboriously  infer  from  the  records  of  the  past. 
He  knows,  he  sees,  he  experiences;  and  his  report 
of  God  is  as  immediate  and  spontaneous  as  his 
report  of  the  song  of  birds  in  the  Walden  woods. 
"  It  is  a  blessed  thing,"  said  Phillips  Brooks, 
"  that  in  all  times  there  have  always  been  men 
to  whom  religion  has  not  presented  itself  as  a 
system  of  doctrines,  but  as  an  elemental  life  in 
which  the  soul  of  man  comes  into  very  direct 
and  close  communion  with  the  soul  of  God." 
That  is  what  draws  many  a  troubled  mind  to 
Emerson.  Amid  the  conflict  of  the  churches  and 
the  contentions  of  the  creeds  and  the  uncertain- 
ties of  history  here  is  a  teacher  who  is  sure  of 
himself,  unruffled  and  serene,  cheerful  and  sane. 
The  temples  where  men  have  tried  to  find  God 
may  seem  to  lose  their  holiness ;  but  Emerson 
says  with  Saint  Paul,  "  The  temple  of  God  is 
holy,  which  temple  ye  are."     The  sense  of  mean- 


334      RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

ing,  beauty,  communication,  may  have  seemed  to 
desert  the  universe,  so  that  one  cries,  '^  There  is 
no  speech  or  language,  their  voice  is  not  heard  "  ; 
but  Emerson  answers,  "  Within  man  is  the  soul 
of  the  Holy,  the  wise  Silence,  the  universal  Heart, 
the  eternal  One."  There  is  a  quality  of  timeless- 
ness  in  mysticism.     When  it  sings  of  that:  — 

"  Vision  where  all  form 
In  one  only  form  dissolves," 

one  can  hardly  guess  whether  it  is  the  voice  of 
Eckhart  or  of  Emerson.  When  it  makes  its 
confession, 

"  There  the  holy  essence  rolls 
One  through  separated  souls,'* 

one  hardly  knows  whether  this  is  a  hymn  of 
Alexandria  or  of  Concord.  The  mystic  in  every 
age  is  the  consolation  and  support  of  moods  to 
which  few  thoughtful  minds  fail  to  rise,  when 
poetry  has  seemed  more  true  than  prose,  and 
imagination  the  open  path  to  reality,  and  the 
soul  in  its  solitude  has  touched  the  Eternal ;  and, 
as  Emerson  sings, — 

"  Over  me  soared  the  eternal  sky, 
Full  of  light  and  of  deity  ; 
Beauty  through  my  senses  stole, 
I  yielded  myself  to  the  perfect  whole.** 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON      335 

As  one  considers  the  subject  of  these  Thursday- 
Lectures  on  the  History  of  Religious  Liberty,  and 
reviews  the  names  which  represent  that  history 
in  the  United  States,  it  is  interesting  to  speculate 
as  to  the  personalities  and  influences  which  are 
likely  to  survive.  What  personalities  in  Ameri- 
can life,  one  asks  himself,  may  be  reasonably 
defined  as  world-personalities  in  the  history  of 
religion,  and,  among  these,  which  are  the  influ- 
ences that  are  likely  to  be  constructive  forces  in 
the  religion  of  the  future?  It  must  be  answered 
that  the  contribution  of  this  country  to  such 
spiritual  leadership  is  small.  The  names  which 
naturally  suggest  themselves  belong,  for  the  most 
part,  to  special  epochs  or  special  communions 
rather  than  to  the  race ;  and,  as  the  issues  of  one 
age  or  church  are  historically  determined,  these 
masters  are  rather  reverenced  than  read,  and  their 
works  are  crowned  with  honor,  and  with  dust. 
Out  of  the  early  history  there  emerges  but  one 
personal  influence  which  still  affects,  in  any  con- 
siderable degree,  the  religious  world, —  the  influ- 
ence of  Jonathan  Edwards.  But  the  spiritual 
vision  and  devout  illumination  of  Edwards, 
though  they  stamp  him  as  of  the  highest  order  of 
religious  genius,  are  so  inextricably  involved  with 
the  history  of  Calvinism  that,  with  the  decline 
of  general  confidence  in  that  theology,  the  work 


336       RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

of  Edwards  recedes  into  history,  and  offers  but 
slight  spiritual  nourishment  to  the  thought  of 
the  modern  world.  The  nineteenth  century  in 
the  United  States  bore  many  men  of  spiritual 
power ;  but,  for  the  most  part,  their  influence 
has  had  necessary  limitations.  Bushnell's  thought 
has  experienced  a  steadily  expanding  influence ; 
and  his  doctrine  of  Christian  nurture  is  now,  for 
the  first  time,  obtaining  just  recognition  and  ac- 
ceptance; but  Bushnell's  work  was  so  largely 
devoted  to  the  correction  and  enrichment  of  the 
specific  doctrines  of  New  England  theology  that 
its  effect  has  been  felt  in  the  history  of  doctrine 
rather  than  in  the  literature  of  universal  religion. 
Beecher,  the  most  gifted  of  American  preachers, 
stirred  his  generation  to  the  love  of  man,  of 
country,  and  of  God ;  but  the  vocation  of  a 
preacher,  while  it  permits  the  joy  of  a  profound 
immediate  effect,  almost  necessarily  involves  a 
transitoriness  of  influence,  and  the  words  of 
Beecher,  in  part  because  they  expressed  with  such 
precision  the  heart  of  his  own  time,  must  accept 
the  preacher's  fate  of  temporariness.  Theodore 
Parker's  vocation,  though  fortified  by  learning  and 
passion,  was  that  of  warfare  among  the  special 
conflicts  of  his  own  age  ;  and  his  work  may  be 
remembered  under  the  title  which  is  written  on 
the  grave  of  Lassalle, — "  Thinker  and  fighter." 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON       337 

It  is  difficult  for  those  who  have  hung  upon  the 
passionate  eloquence  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  believe 
that  his  influence  also  must  share  the  fate  of  the 
preacher's  calling.  Wherever  his  majestic  pres- 
ence stood  and  the  contagion  of  his  faith  was 
felt,  the  world  will  never  seem  again  without 
illumination ;  and  the  lift  of  this  whole  com- 
munity to  a  higher  spiritual  level  and  a  broader 
horizon  of  truth  is  a  gain  which  cannot  be  lost. 
It  was  quite  within  his  power  to  become  a  great 
constructive  theologian,  and  more  than  once  he 
turned  with  eagerness  to  opportunities  for  this 
career  ;  but  he  was  held  by  circumstances  to  the 
preacher's  vocation,  and  his  place  in  our  religious 
history  seems  to  be  not  that  of  a  theologian  or 
reformer,  but,  as  he  would  perhaps  most  desire, 
that  of  the  consummate  flower  of  modern  Chris- 
tian prophecy. 

There  remain  but  two  names  in  the  religious 
history  of  the  United  States  which  may  be  reason- 
ably expected  to  have  a  permanent  place  in  the 
religious  literature  of  the  world  The  significance 
of  Channing  is  obscured  in  this  community  by  his 
relation  to  a  single  body  of  Christians.  To  read 
him  has  seemed  dangerous  to  many  who  disap- 
prove of  Unitarianism,  and  superfluous  to  those 
who  are  already  Unitarian.  Few  Boston  Unita- 
rians of  this  generation  would  hesitate  to   name 


338       RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 

Channing  as  thqir  representative ;  but  fewer  still, 
perhaps,  have  read  him.  It  is  necessary  to  stand 
a  long  way  off  from  these  local  issues  to  see 
Channing  at  his  full  size.  When  the  Chevalier 
Bunsen,  in  his  great  work,  was  describing  "  The 
Progress  of  Man's  Faith  in  the  Moral  Order  of 
the  World  through  the  Personalities  of  History," 
he  remarked:  "We  pass  to  consider  the  prophet 
of  man's  religious  consciousness  to  the  United 
States, —  Channing."  "  Channing  is  an  antique 
hero  with  a  Christian  heart."  "  He  is  a  man 
like  a  Hellene,  a  citizen  like  a  Roman,  a  Chris- 
tian like  an  apostle."  That  is  the  impression 
made  on  great  numbers  of  thoughtful  minds  in 
many  countries,  as  they  read  one  of  the  many 
translations  of  this  calm  interpreter  of  the  duty 
of  man  and  the  nature  of  God.  The  dominating 
influence  of  Channing  on  the  preaching  and 
philanthropy  of  the  present  time  is  like  the 
round  dome  of  a  mountain,  which  does  not  show 
its  height  until  one  stands  where  he  can  see  the 
outline  of  the  whole  range  of  lesser  hills.  The 
other  spiritual  influence  which  is  evidently  in- 
creasing in  importance  as  the  years  go  by,  is  that 
of  Emerson.  It  is  vain  to  consider  which  of 
these  men  was  the  greater.  It  is  like  debating 
the  merits  of  Greek  and  Gothic  architecture. 
Channing    is    classic,    symmetrical,    convincing, 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON      339 

noble ;  and  to  many  minds  his  Hellenic  spirit 
best  expresses  the  perfect  plan  of  life.  But  tem- 
peraments there  always  are,  and  leaping  instincts 
in  the  most  temperate  of  minds,  which  respond  to 
the  Gothic  ideal,  the  daring,  visionary,  high- 
vaulted,  imaginative,  mystic  reach  of  the  soul. 
"  The  Grecian,"  says  Mr.  Lowell, 

"gluts  me  with  its  perfectness, 
Unanswerable  as  Euclid,  self-contained, 
The  one  thing  perfect  in  this  hasty  world. 

But  ah  !  this  other,  this  that  never  ends, 
Still  climbing,  luring  fancy  still  to  climb, 

Imagination's  very  self  in  stone. 

With  one  long  sigh  of  infinite  release, 

I  looked,  and  owned  myself  a  happy  Goth." 

It  is  the  very  daring  of  the  art  of  Emerson,  the 
richness  of  each  fragment,  the  lift  of  thought, 
even  the  dimness  of  expression,  Hke  the  dim 
vista  of  a  Gothic  aisle,  that  make  him  the  quiet- 
ing resort  of  many  a  troubled  mind.  One  enters 
Emerson,  and  the  noise  of  business  and  ambition 
ceases.  "  Why  so  hot,  little  man  ?  "  say  the  cool, 
dark  sentences ;  and  the  slighter  incidents  of  life 
let  go  their  hold  as  one  sits  in  the  dark  and  owns 
himself  a  happy  Goth. 


X 


Theodore    Parker    and    the    Naturalization 
of  Religion 


THEODORE    PARKER   AND   THE 

NATURALIZATION    OF 

RELIGION. 

In  his  recent  book  on  "What  is  Christian- 
ity?" Professor  Harnack  wrote  these  words: 
"  How  often  and  often  in  the  history  of  religion 
has  there  been  a  tendency  to  do  away  with  some 
traditional  form  of  doctrine  or  ritual  which  has 
ceased  to  satisfy  inwardly,  but  to  do  away  with  it 
by  giving  a  new  interpretation  !  The  endeavor 
seems  to  be  succeeding :  the  temper  and  the 
knowledge  prevailing  at  the  moment  are  favor- 
able to  it, —  when,  lo  and  behold,  the  old  mean- 
ing suddenly  comes  back  again.  The  actual 
words  of  the  liturgy,  of  the  official  doctrine, 
prove  stronger  than  anything  else.  .  .  .  There 
is  no  tougher  or  more  conservative  fabric  than 
a  properly  constituted  religion  :  it  can  yield  to  a 
higher  phase  only  by  being  abolished.  No  per- 
manent effect  could  be  expected  in  the  apostolic 
age  from  the  twisting  and  turning  of  the  Law 
so  as  to  make  room  for  the  new  faith  side  by 
side  with  it,  or  so  to  approximate  the  old  relig- 
ion to  that  faith.  Some  one  had  to  stand  up 
and  say,   '  The   old  is  done   away ' ;  he   had    to 


344  THEODORE  PARKER 

brand  any  further  pursuit  of  it  as  a  sin  ;  he  had 
to  show  that  all  things  had  become  new.  The 
man  who  did  that  was  the  apostle  Paul,  and  it  is 
in  having  done  it  that  his  greatness  in  the  history 
of  the  world  consists." 

Eighteen  hundred  years  later  the  need  again 
clamored  for  a  champion.  Some  one  had  to 
stand  up  and  say,  "  The  old  is  done  away  "  ;  he 
had  to  brand  any  further  pursuit  of  it  as  a  sin ; 
he  had  to  show  that  all  things  had  become  new. 
The  man  who  did  that  in  the  later  days  was 
Theodore  Parker,  and  it  is  in  having  done  it  that 
his  greatness  consists. 

Consider  the  theological  position  here  in  New 
England  in  1841,  four  years  after  he  had  entered 
the  ministrv,  the  very  year  in  which  he  delivered 
his  famous  "  Discourses  on  Matters  pertaining  to 
Religion." 

The  earlier  preaching  of  the  Unitarians  had 
driven  the  orthodox  ministers  to  a  more  definite 
and  tense  holding  of  their  opinions.  They  had 
drawn  their  skirts  more  closely  about  them  lest 
they  be  accused  of  touching  the  unclean  heresy 
with  so  much  as  the  hem  of  their  garment.  They 
declared  their  doctrines  with  more  than  usual 
unction.  Lyman  Beecher  had  come  to  Boston 
with  the  express  purpose  of  denouncing  and  re- 
futing Unitarianism  on  its  own  ground.     Young 


THEODORE  PARKER  345 

Parker  attended  his  ministrations  for  a  year. 
Possibly  this  experience  added  material  for  his 
later  feeling  ;  for  he  confessed  that  "  the  notorious 
dulness  of  the  Sunday  services,  their  mechanical 
character,  the  poverty  and  insignificance  of  the 
sermons,  the  unnaturalness  and  uncertainty  of  the 
doctrines  preached  on  the  authority  of  a  'divine 
and  infallible  revelation,'  the  lifelessness  of  pub- 
lic prayers,  and  the  consequent  heedlessness  of 
the  congregation, —  all  tended  to  turn  a  young 
man  off  from  becoming  a  minister."  This  preach- 
ing was  artificial,  philosophical,  dogmatic.  It  was 
not  lacking  in  fervor  and  emotion ;  but  it  was  the 
proclamation  of  a  system  rather  than  of  a  life ; 
and  as  such  was  repugnant  to  this  man  whose 
arteries  throbbed  with  warm,  red  blood. 

On  the  other  hand,  he  found  among  the 
Unitarians  much  of  what  was  unreal  to  him. 
There  was  a  use  of  conventional  theological 
vocabulary,  and  the  practice  of  many  of  the 
ancient  customs  and  usages.  He  felt  that  they 
had  not  yet  freed  themselves  from  the  very 
orthodoxy  against  which  they  contended.  They 
were  hatched,  indeed ;  but  to  many  of  them  the 
shell  still  clung  in  patches.  They  used  the  old 
words,  but  with  new  interpretations.  This  im- 
parted a  sort  of  fuzziness  to  the  edges  of  their 
thought  which  both  confused  and  irritated  Parker. 


346  THEODORE  PARKER 

He  had  no  terms  of  refined  Latinity  for  sin,  nor 
had  he  the  slightest  inclination  to  call  a  spade  a 
"useful  agricultural  Implement  employed  in  ex- 
cavations." Moreover,  he  found  the  Unitarians 
at  variance  among  themselves, —  at  one  in  their 
main  contentions  with  orthodoxy,  but  widely 
separated  on  the  positive  statements  of  their 
belief. 

Parker  clarified  the  situation  by  driving  the 
orthodox  into  a  more  concentrated  position, 
and  by  demanding  from  the  Unitarians  more 
exact  statements  of  their  ambiguous  terminology. 
If  the  orthodox  were  to  link  his  name  with  that 
of  Voltaire  and  Tom  Paine,  and  call  him  "  infi- 
del "  and  "  atheist,"  at  least  they  knew  why  they 
did  so.  If  Unitarians  found  It  often  difficult 
and  sometimes  Impossible  to  exchange  pulpits 
with  him,  they,  too,  at  least  knew  why. 

It  Is  said  that  a  solution  of  rock-salt  will  pass 
from  the  liquid  to  the  crystallized  state  if  touched 
at  the  right  moment  by  something  outside  itself. 
Such  a  transformation  was  effected  in  the  fluid 
theological  opinions  by  the  great  South  Boston 
sermon  on  "  The  Transient  and  Permanent  in 
Christianity."  It  was  delivered  in  May,  1841, 
on  the  occasion  of  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Shack- 
ford,  and  was  heard  by  many  ministers.  The 
effect  was  tremendous.      Boston  was  thrown  into 


THEODORE  PARKER  347 

uproar  like  that  in  the  city  of  old,  when  men 
threw  dust  into  the  air  and  shouted  long  and 
loud  in  praise  of  their  ancient  gods.  It  became 
a  "  test  of  faith  to  exchange  pulpits  with  him." 

The  Boston  Association  of  Ministers  debated 
the  question  whether  he  were  a  Christian,  and 
should  he  not  be  expelled,  but  were  mercifully 
restrained  from  formal  action.  Four  years  later 
Parker  addressed  a  letter  to  this  Association, 
asking  for  definitions  of  four  terms, —  salvation, 
miracle,  inspiration,  revelation.  This  letter  called 
forth  a  host  of  replies,  many  of  them  sharp  and 
stringent,  some  of  them  satirical,  a  few  of  them 
courteous  and  discriminating,  but  all  of  them  re- 
gretting the  way  in  which  Mr.  Parker  handled 
sacred  themes ;  for  he  had  translated  the  time- 
honored  and  ancient  terminology  into  the  ver- 
nacular. That  this  should  seem  to  them  so  blame- 
worthy indicated  the  validity  of  his  contention. 

Perhaps  this  will  sufiice  for  the  present  to 
justify  the  quotation  from  Harnack  with  which  I 
began.  "  Some  one  had  to  stand  up  and  say, 
'  The  old  is  done  away  ' ;  he  had  to  brand  any 
further  pursuit  of  it  as  a  sin  ;  he  had  to  show  that 
all  things  had  become  new."  Of  course,  he  was 
dreaded  and  misunderstood  by  friends  and  foes. 

Let  us  now  consider  Theodore  Parker's  equip- 
ment for  this  clarifying  process.      He  came  from 


348  THEODORE  PARKER 

a  race  of  men  whose  habit  it  was  to  clarify  the 
air.  His  grandfather  had  been  sergeant  in  the 
French  and  Indian  War:  he  had  learned  to  see 
clearly  the  injustice  of  England's  treatment  of 
the  colonies  ;  and,  when  the  old  bell  rang  the 
summons  to  resist  the  British  on  Lexington 
Green,  this  John  Parker,  weak  with  the  illness 
which  later  ended  his  life,  drew  up  his  troop  of 
seventy  neighbors,  ordered  them  to  load  with 
powder  and  ball,  not  to  fire  unless  fired  upon, 
but  adding  those  memorable  words,  "  If  they 
mean  to  have  a  war,  let  it  begin  here."  The 
fowling-piece  which  he  had  carried,  and  a  musket 
which  he  captured  from  a  grenadier,  hung 
crossed  on  the  wall  of  his  grandson's  study, —  an 
abiding  inspiration.  And  "  of  nothing  in  his 
own  career  was  Theodore  so  proud  as  of  Captain 
John  Parker's  deeds  and  words  at  the  battle  of 
Lexington." 

Parker's  father  was  a  "  quiet,  thoughtful,  silent 
man,  of  strong  sense,  of  great  moral  worth,  re- 
liable, honorable  ;  worked  every  day  and  all  day  ; 
taught  his  children  to  speak  the  truth ;  always 
had  a  book  in  his  hand  in  the  evening."  He  was 
an  intelligent  observer  of  natural  things ;  he 
thought  for  himself,  and  reached  sensible  con- 
clusions ;  was  often  called  upon  to  arbitrate  in 
disputes,    administer    estates,    and    assume    the 


THEODORE  PARKER  349 

guardianship  of  orphans.  "He  was  a  religious 
man,  of  the  grave,  earnest  sort, —  without  much 
emotion  ;  an  avowed  Unitarian  before  Unitarian- 
ism  as  a  system  was  preached ;  a  stout  Federalist 
when  there  were  but  four  besides  himself  in  the 
whole  town." 

Theodore's  mother  was  "  a  handsome  woman 
of  slight  form,  flaxen  hair,  blue  eyes,  and  a 
singularly  fresh  and  delicate  complexion."  She 
lived  much  in  her  imagination  and  feelings, 
was  of  a  poetic  and  romantic  temperament,  of 
deep  and  earnest  religion,  which  came  not  in  the 
armor  of  theological  creed,  but  bubbled  up  from 
her  trusting  heart,  a  well  of  water  springing  into 
eternal  life.  "  She  knew  God  as  an  omnipresent 
Father,  whose  voice  was  conscience,  whose  Prov- 
idence was  kindly, —  the  joyous  soul  of  all  things, 
animating  nature  and  enlightening  mind, —  filling 
the  world  with  tides  of  energy  that  were  as 
vast  as  the  ocean,  and  bright  as  the  rivulets." 
This  description  of  his  parents  is  in  the  main 
from  Theodore  himself, —  the  just  and  tender 
estimate  by  a  noble  man  of  the  noble  two  who 
gave  him  birth.  And  from  it  we  can  readily  see 
how  he  came  naturally  by  his  courage  for  his 
sensible  opinions,  and  by  those  subtle  intuitions 
which  weighed  more  with  him  than  the  fabric  of 
logic. 


350  THEODORE  PARKER 

Once,  when  a  little  boy  of  four  years,  he  was 
tempted  to  strike  a  spotted  tortoise  sunning  him- 
self in  the  shallow  water  of  a  wayside  pool. 
"  But  all  at  once  something  checked  my  little 
arm,"  he  writes,  "  and  a  voice  within  me  said, 
clear  and  loud,  *It  is  wrong.'  I  hastened  home 
and  told  the  tale  to  my  mother,  and  asked  what 
it  was  that  told  me  it  was  wrong.  She  took  me 
in  her  arms  and  said :  '  Some  men  call  it  con-^ 
science,  but  I  prefer  to  call  it  the  voice  of  Godj 
in  the  soul  of  man.  If  you  listen  and  obey  it, 
then  it  will  speak  clearer  and  clearer,  and  always 
guide  you  right;  but,  if  you  turn  a  deaf  ear  or 
disobey,  then  it  will  fade  out  little  by  little,  and 
leave  you  all  in  the  dark,  and  without  a  guide. 
Your  life  depends  upon  heeding  this  little  voice.* 
.  .  .  And  I  am  sure  that  no  event  in  my  life  has 
made  so  deep  and  lasting  an  impression  on  me." 
I  have  ventured  on  the  telling  of  this  oft-told  in- 
cident because  it  shows  so  well  the  strongest 
influence  upon  his  childhood,  and  reveals  the  re- 
sponsiveness to  that  influence  which  grew  stronger 
with  the  years. 

Theodore  Parker  was  a  natural  little  boy,  liv- 
ing in  a  sweet  and  genuine  atmosphere.  He  was 
a  natural  youth,  when  at  the  age  of  tw^enty-two 
he  opened  his  private  school  in  Watertown,  and 
taught  his  boys  religion  from  the  texts  of  their 


THEODORE  PARKER  351 

daily  tasks  or  from  the  Jiving  things  that 
thronged  their  pathway  through  the  woods.  And 
how  natural  and  wholesome  was  the  spirit  in 
which  he  sought  the  high  office  of  the  ministry 
is  manifested  through  the  questions  which  he 
asked  himself  on  the  threshold  of  Harvard  Di- 
vinity School : — 

1.  "Can  you  seek  for  what  is  eternally  true, 
and  not  be  blinded  by  the  opinions  of  any  sect, 
or  of  the  Christian  Church ;  and  can  you  tell  the 
truth  you  learn,  even  when  it  is  unpopular  and 
hated  ?      I  answered,  ^  I  can.* 

2.  "  Can  you  seek  the  eternal  right,  and  not 
be  blinded  by  the  status  of  men,  ecclesiastical, 
political,  or  social ;  and  can  you  declare  that 
eternal  right  you  discover,  applying  it  to  the 
actual  life  of  men,  individual  and  associated, 
though  it  bring  you  into  painful  relations  of 
men  ?     Again  I  swiftly  answered,  '  I  can.' 

3.  "Can  you  represent  in  your  life  that  truth 
of  the  intellect  and  that  right  of  conscience,  so  as 
not  to  disgrace  with  your  character  what  you 
preach  with  your  lips  ?  I  answered,  '  I  can  try, 
and  I  will.'  " 

How  genuine  and  lofty  and  searching  these 
questions  and  answers  !  and  so  utterly  simple 
and  human  !  A  nature  that  had  lived  out  under 
the   sky ;    a  temperament  which    was  the    amal- 


;iS^  THEODORE  PARKER 

gam  of  hard  sense  and  religious  intuitions ;  a 
manly  energy  that  sought  truth  only  in  the  in- 
ward parts ;  and  a  courage  to  bring  such  truth 
with  its  cautery  and  its  balm  to  the  sins  and 
aches  of  men, —  such  was  the  natural  equipment 
with  which  Parker  entered  upon  his  work  of 
naturalizing  religion. 

Familiar  as  we  are  with  his  mature  thought,  it 
is  strange  to  read  of  his  early  conservatism.  Yet 
at  the  outset  of  his  theological  course  he  gave 
this  outline  of  his  opinions  :  — 

"  I  believe  there  is  one  God,  who  has  existed 
from  all  eternity,  with  whom  the  past,  present, 
and  future  are  alike  present ;  that  he  is  almighty, 
good,  and  merciful,  will  reward  the  good  and 
punish  the  wicked,  both  in  this  life  and  the  next. 
This  punishment  may  be  eternal.  ...  I  believe  the 
books  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament  to  have 
been  written  by  men  inspired  by  God,  for  certain 
purposes ;  but  I  do  not  think  of  them  as  inspired 
at  all  times.  I  believe  that  Christ  was  the  Son 
of  God,  conceived  and  born  in  a  miraculous 
manner,  that  he  came  to  preach  a  better  religion 
by  which  men  may  be  saved." 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  some  of  this 
seemed  unreal  to  him ;  and  one  by  one  the 
ancient  landmarks  were  removed,  until  he  dwelt 
at    ease    in    the    unfenced    field, —  which    is    the 


THEODORE  PARKER  353 

world.  He  began  by  doubting  the  authority  of 
the  early  Fathers.  Then  he  saw  the  common- 
sense  position  of  certain  of  the  German  critics,  who 
questioned  the  Mosaic  authorship  of  the  Penta- 
teuch and  the  validity  of  Messianic  prophecy. 
But  he  accepted  these  new  ideas  slowly.  We 
find  him  making  excuses  for  the  barbarous 
slaughter  of  the  Canaanites  :  we  find  him  taking 
up  the  cudgels  in  defence  of  Mosaic  authorship 
as  against  the  critics,  and  demurring  at  opinions 
on  New  Testament  matters  which  became  the 
accepted  truth  not  many  years  afterward.  In 
spite  of  Professor  Andrews  Norton's  private 
assurance  that  all  "  German  scholars  are  raw  and 
inaccurate,"  he  read  as  many  of  them  as  he  could 
lay  his  hands  on ;  and  he  lamented  that  in  the 
library  "  there  was  almost  none  of  the  new 
theologic  thought  of  the  German  masters."  He 
had  much  time  for  private  study ;  and  to  his 
knowledge  of  Greek,  Latin,  and  German  lan- 
guages he  added  Italian,  Portuguese,  Dutch,  Ice- 
landic, Chaldaic,  Persian,  Coptic,  Arabic.  Weiss 
says  that  "  he  always  seemed  to  have  a  language 
under  glass."  And  Professor  Andrew  Peabody 
declared  that  "  the  mass  of  his  acquisitions  and  his 
facility  in  their  use,  in  classical  learning,  history, 
philosophy,  and  theology,  were  almost  unprece- 
dented."    His  years  and  work  at  the    Divinity 


354  THEODORE  PARKER 

School  had  forced  his  conservatism  from  one 
outpost  to  another  until  finally  it  was  ready  to 
capitulate  on  any  terms  he  would  give  it.  And 
on  the  day  of  his  graduation  he  wrote  :  "  God  has 
prospered  me  in  my  studies  ;  and  I  am  now  ready 
to  go  forth,  but  not  without  dread  and  fear. 
What  an  immense  change  has  taken  place  in 
my  opinions  and  feelings  upon  all  the  main 
points  of  inquiry  since  I  entered  this  place  !  " 

He  had  come  to  believe  that  no  part  of  the 
Bible  could  be  called  "  the  Word  of  God,"  save 
in  the  sense  that  all  truth  is  God's  word.  He 
had  come  to  believe  that  "  the  Christian  Church 
is  no  more  divine  than  the  British  State  or  an 
Austrian's  farm."  He  had  studied  the  historical 
development  of  religion,  and  "  found  no  tribe  of 
men  destitute  of  religion  who  had  attained  power 
of  articulate  speech."  He  had  come  to  see  that 
miracles  were  unnatural,  and  therefore  were  to  be 
discredited.  But  in  this  process  of  examination 
and  development  three  great  primal  intuitions 
stood  forth  as  facts  of  consciousness, —  God, 
the  Moral  Law,  and  Immortality.  For  him  the 
proof  for  these  depends  upon  no  logical  process 
of  demonstration,  but  is  given  by  the  instinctive 
action  of  human  nature  itself  Hence  these  are 
strictly  natural,  and  constitute  "  the  foundation 
of  religion,  which  neither  the  atheist  nor  the  more 


THEODORE  PARKER  355 

pernicious  bigot,  with  their  sophisms  of  denial  or 
affirmation,  could  move  or  even  shake." 
/God,  the  Moral  Law,  Immortality, —  if  Theo- 
/dore  Parker  could  be  said  to  have  had  a  creed, 
Xhese  must  be  called  the  great  articles  of  it.  But 
he  had  no  creed, —  no  theology  apart  from  his  re- 
ligion, no  system  of  truth  apart  from  his  expe- 
rience. What  he  calls  "  natural  religion  "  is  thari 
body  of  truth  which  is  normal  to  and  apprehendsi 
by  the  experience  of  the  normal  man.'  But  the 
experience  of  the  normal  man  must  include  that 
man's  intuitions  as  well  as  his  sensatior^7  Here* 
he  breaks  with  the  German  naturalism,  whose 
"  theology,  philosophy,  and  worship  are  of  the 
senses,  and  of  the  senses  alone."  That  system 
does  not  seem  true  to  him,  because  it  leaves  out 
of  account  or  discredits  that  which  to  him  is 
fundamentally  real, —  the  immediate  conscious- 
ness of  the  Deity.  He  has  been  accused  of 
Pantheism,  but  the  accusation  has  come  from  the 
lack  of  distinction  between  what  is  in  a  subject 
and  the  subject  itself.  Light  is  in  the  air,  but 
light  is  not  the  air.  God  is  in  nature  and  man, 
but  nature  and  man  are  not  God.  Parker's  great 
truth  was  this  of  Divine  Immanence.  "The  int-; 
fluence  of  God  in  nature,"  he  writes,  "  in  its' 
mechanical,  vital,  or  instinctive  action,  is  beautiful. \ 
It  admonishes   while  it  delights   us.     It  is  our 


356  THEODORE  PARKER 

silent  counsellor,  our  sovereign  aid.  But  the 
inspiration  of  God  in  man  —  when  faithfully 
obeyed  —  is  nobler  and  far  more  beautiful.  It  is 
not  the  passive  elegance  of  unconscious  things 
which  we  see  resulting  from  man's  voluntary 
obedience.  That  might  well  charm  us  in  nature  : 
in  man  we  look  for  more.  A  single  good  man, 
at  one  with  God,  makes  the  morning  and  evening 
sun  seem  little  and  very  low.  It  is  a  higher 
mode  of  the  divine  power  that  appears  in  him, 
self-conscious  and  self-restrained." 

He  has  been  accused  of  Transcendentalism  ;  yet, 
while  he  had  large  sympathy  with  the  Transcen- 
dental movement,  and  numbered  among  his  most 
intimate  friends  many  of  that  famous  group,  he 
is  more  definite  than  they,  and  was  able  to  keep 
well  on  this  side  of  the  vagaries  of  their  thinking. 
Dr.  Peabody  wrote  of  him,  "  On  the  most  funda- 
mental of  all  religious  truths, —  that  of  the  per- 
sonality of  God,  with  the  correlative  truth,  the 
reahty  of  the  communion  of  the  human  spirit 
with  him  in  prayer, —  he  seems  never  to  have  en- 
tertained a  doubt ;  while  in  this  entire  region  of 
thought  they  were  utterly  befogged  and  adrift, 
though  some  of  them  ultimately  came  out  into 
clearer  light,  and  upon  solid  ground."  It  is  true 
that  the  teaching  fascinated  him,  because  it  prom- 
ised so  much  more  than  the  barren  and  limited 


THEODORE  PARKER  357 

results  of  Naturalism.  He  lived  within  a  mile 
of  Brook  Farm  ;  but  he  never  joined  in  that  enter- 
prise, though  he  was  a  frequent  visitor.  That  is 
typical  of  his  attitude  toward  Transcendentalism 
as  a  whole.  His  passion  for  statistics,  his  sense 
for  practical  utility,  his  habit  of  induction  from 
close  observations,  restrained  him  from  that  nebu- 
lous upper-world.  He  saw  that  "  Transcenden- 
talism has  a  work  to  do,  to  show  that  physics, 
politics,  ethics,  religion,  rest  on  facts  of  necessity, 
and  have  their  witness  and  confirmation  in  facts 
of  observation."  He  was  at  one  with  the  move- 
m.ent  so  long  as  it  kept  to  that  legitimate  work; 
but  the  parting  of  their  ways  was  marked  by  the 
sign-board :  "  This  way  to  Guesses.  This  way  to 
Facts." 

Parker's  theology  was  the  description  of  his 
experience.  "After  preaching  a  few  months  in 
various  places,"  he  declares,  "  I  determined  to 
preach  nothing  as  religion  which  I  had  not  expe- 
rienced inwardly  and  made  my  own, —  knowing  it 
by  heart."  And  Chadwick  writes  of  him,  "  It 
was  not  his  philosophy  or  theology,  it  was  his 
religion,  the  product  of  his  organization,  his  tem- 
perament, and  his  experience,  that  convinced  men 
as  could  no  argument,  and  made  them  evangeHsts 
of  the  faith  they  had  received."  "You  and  I," 
cries   Parker,  "are   not  born  in  the  dotage  and 


358  THEODORE  PARKER 

decay  of  the  world.  Wherever  a  heart  beats  with 
love,  where  Faith  and  Reason  utter  their  oracles, 
there  also  is  God,  as  formerly  in  the  hearts  of 
seers  and  prophets.  Neither  Gerizim  nor  Jerusa- 
lem, nor  the  soil  that  Jesus  blessed,  is  so  holy  as  the 
good  man's  heart ;  nothing  so  full  of  God.  The 
clear  sky  bends  over  each  man,  little  or  great ;  let 
him  uncover  his  head,  there  is  nothing  between 
him  and  infinite  space.  So  the  ocean  of  God 
encircles  all  men  ;  uncover  the  soul  of  its  sensu- 
ality, selfishness,  sin ;  there  is  nothing  between  it 
and  God,  who  flows  into  man,  as  light  into  air. 
Certain  as  the  open  eye  drinks  in  the  light,  do 
the  pure  in  heart  see  God,  and  he  that  lives  truly 
feels  him  as  a  presence  not  to  be  put  by.  This 
is  a  doctrine  of  experience.  There  are  hours  when 
the  hand  of  destiny  seems  heavy  upon  us  ;  when 
the  thought  of  time  misspent,  the  pang  of  affec- 
tion misplaced  or  unrequited,  the  experience  of 
man's  worst  nature  and  the  sense  of  our  own  deg- 
radation, come  over  us.  In  the  outward  and  the 
inward  trials,  we  know  not  which  way  to  turn. 
The  heart  faints  and  is  ready  to  perish.  Then 
in  the  deep  silence  of  the  soul,  when  the  man 
turns  inward  to  God,  light,  comfort,  peace,  draw 
on  him.  His  troubles, —  they  are  the  dewdrop 
on  his  sandal.  His  enmities  or  jealousies,  hopes, 
fears,  honors,  disgraces,  all  the  undeserved  mis- 


THEODORE  PARKER  359 

haps  of  life,  are  lost  to  the  view;  diminishedj  and 
then  hid  in  the  mists  of  the  valley  he  has  left  be- 
hind and  below  him.  Resolution  comes  over 
him  with  its  vigorous  wing;  Truth  is  clear  as 
noon ;  the  soul  in  faith  rushes  to  its  God.  The 
mystery  is  at  an  end.  .  .  .  Conscience  is  still 
God-with-us.  Prayer  is  deep  as  ever  of  old. 
Reason  as  true  ;  Religion  as  blest.  Faith  ctill  re- 
mains the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evi- 
dence of  things  not  seen.  Love  is  yet  mighty  to 
cast  out  fear.  The  substance  of  the  Infinite  is 
not  yet  exhausted,  nor  the  well  of  Life  drunk  dry. 
The  Father  is  near  us  as  ever,  else  Reason  were 
a  traitor,  Morality  a  hollow  form.  Religion  a 
mockery,  and  Love  a  hideous  lie."  In  such  an 
immediate  experience,  Leibnitz'  sneer  that  "  God 
has  to  wind  up  his  watch  from  time  to  time,  be- 
cause he  could  not  see  ahead  far  enough  to  establish 
perpetual  motion,"  is  utterly  out  of  place.  God 
himself /V  the  perpetual  motion  in  all  phenomena 
and  thought.  Hence  miracles  are  unnecessary 
when  all  life  is  a  continual  miracle.  Inspiration 
cannot  be  restricted  to  a  land,  or  a  century,  or  a 
group  of  men,  when  life  itself  is  the  perpetual  in-; 
spiration  of  God.  There  is  no  room  for  a  super-! 
nature  in  a  nature  which  is  itself  so  vast.  -^ 

Contrast    this     with    the    traditional    theology 
which  thinks  of  God  as  apart  from  the  world  ;  re- 


360  THEODORE  PARKER 

vealing  himself  by  dictational  inspiration  through  . 
special  men  for  a  special  purpose ;  limiting  truth 
to  such  revelations ;  holding  men  eternally  re- 
sponsible for  obedience  to  those  revelations ;  to 
rescue  them  from  the  desperate  consequences  of  Af^ 
their  disobedience,  coming  among  them  himself, 
and  attesting  his  presence  and  authority  by  mi- 
raculous signs  and  wonders;  arbitrarily  choosing  , 
a  minority  of  the  human  race  as  worthy  to  receive 
such  benefits,  giving  them  supernatural  power  to 
make  their  calling  and  election  sure ;  thereby 
saving  them  into  a  heaven  to  which  they  have  no 
other  right,  for  whose  delights  they  have  else- 
wise  no  liking.  Parker  made  that  terrific  con- 
trast ;  and  the  whole  system  seemed  to  him  so 
unreal,  so  mechanical,  so  hostile,  to  the  experi- 
ence of  life  as  he  knew  it,  that  he  felt  that  re- 
ligion thus  taught  was  "  a  mockery,  morality  a 
hollow  form,  and  love  a  hideous  lie." 

In  the  Letter  to  his  Parishioners  from  Santa 
Cruz  he  writes  :  "  I  have  preached  against  the 
errors  of  this  ecclesiastical  theology  more  than 
upon  any  other  form  of  wrong,  for  they  are  the 
most  fatal  mischiefs  of  the  land.  ...  It  has 
grieved  me  tenderly  to  see  all  Christendom  mak- 
ing the  Bible  its  fetich,  and  so  losing  the  price- 
less value  of  that  free  religious  spirit  which,  com- 
muning at  first  hand  with   God,  wrote  its  grand 


THEODORE  PARKER  361 

pages  or  poured  out  its  magnificent  beatitudes.  .  .  . 
So  I  have  preached  against  the  fundamental 
errors  of  this  well-compacted  theological  scheme, 
showing  the  consequences  which  follow  thence. 
But  I  have  never  forgotten  the  great  truths  this 
theology  contains,  invaluable  to  the  intellect,  the 
heart,  and  the  soul.  I  have  tried  to  preserve 
them  all,  with  each  good  institution  which  the 
Church,  floating  over  the  ruins  of  the  elder  world, 
has  borne  across  the  deluge,  and  set  down  for  us 
where  the  dove  of  peace  has  found  rest  for  the 
sole  of  her  foot,  and  gathered  her  olive-branch 
to  show  that  those  devouring  waters  are  dried  up 
from  the  face  of  the  earth.  To  me  the  name  of 
Christianity  is  most  exceeding  dear,  significant  of 
so  great  a  man,  and  of  such  natural  emotions, 
ideas,  and  actions  as  are  of  priceless  value  to 
mankind.  I  have  not  sat  in  the  seat  of  the 
scornful.  I  have  taken  exquisite  delight  in  the 
grand  words  of  the  Bible,  which  to  me  are  more 
dear  when  I  regard  them  not  as  the  miracles  of 
God,  but  as  the  work  of  earnest  men,  who  did 
their  uttermost  with  holy  heart.  I  love  to  read 
the  lessons  of  that  human  Hebrew  peasant,  who 
summed  up  the  prophets  and  the  law  in  one  word 
of  love^  and  set  forth  men's  daily  duties  in  such 
true  and  simple  speech.  My  preaching  has  been 
positive  much  more  than  negative  ;  controversial 


362  THEODORE  PARKER 

only  to  create.  I  have  tried  to  set  forth  the 
truths  of  natural  religion,  gathered  from  the  world 
of  matter  and  of  spirit.  I  rely  on  these  great 
ideas  as  the  chief  means  for  exciting  the  religious 
feelings,  and  promoting  religious  deeds.  I  have 
destroyed  only  what  seemed  pernicious,  and  that 
I  might  build  a  better  structure  in  its  place." 

Parker's  whole  controversy  with  existing  theol- 
ogy was  against  its  unreality  and  deadness.  His 
whole  effort  was  to  make  theology  real  and  alivel 
Before  the  judgment-seat  of  these  twin  censors, 
Reality  and  Life,  he  ruthlessly  haled  every  state- 
ment, opinion,  act,  observance,  claim.  By  their 
decree  must  the  prisoner  stand  or  fall.  Though 
clad  in  the  bright  livery  of  an  angel,  if  these  con- 
demned, the  culprit  was  shorn  of  its  lustrous 
robes  and  driven  from  before  men.  Though  clad 
in  homespun,  if  by  these  upheld,  it  was  clothed 
in  light  as  with  a  garment  and  set  in  the  place  of 
kings.  Dr.  Cyrus  Bartol  called  him  "  the  sheriff 
of  ideas,  the  executor  of  God's  law,  the  preacher 
of  righteousness."  Sheriff  he  was,  this  man  who 
made  every  vagrant  idea  on  the  street  corner  give 
a  good  account  of  itself  and  forced  every  idle 
fancy  into  the  service  of  mankind.  "  Having 
eternal  principles  in  charge,  he  used  the  timely 
opportunity  to  set  them  in  gear."  "  Executor  of 
God's  law  "  he  was  when  he  insisted  upon  the 


THEODORE  PARKER  :^63 

humanity  of  even  a  runaway  black  man,  and  as 
chairman  of  the  Vigilance  Committee  he  person- 
ally saw  that  such  justice  as  was  possible  was 
secured  to  that  humanity.  "  Executor  of  God's 
law"  he  was,  this  man  whose  sermon  after  sermon 
thundered  denunciation  of  public  wrongs  and  in 
the  name  of  the  eternal  right  demanded  their  bet- 
terment. And  "  preacher  of  righteousness  "  he 
surely  was, —  a  righteousness  which  exceeded  the 
righteousness  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees  of  his 
day  because  it  was  character  rather  than  ortho- 
doxy, life  rather  than  belief,  the  indwelling  God 
shining  clear  and  irrefutable  through  every  pore 
of  human  nature. 

What  manner  of  mian  was  he  who  thus  stood 
like  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land, —  dividing  the 
prevailing  winds  of  doctrine  and  breaking  their 
force  that  storm-swept  souls  might  find  a  shelter 
in  his  lee  ? 

Men  warned  others  not  even  to  look  upon  his 
face,  lest  the  sight  (like  that  of  the  Gorgon  of 
old)  should  turn  them  into  stone.  But  others 
said,  "  To  be  in  his  society  was  to  be  impelled  in 
the  direction  of  all  nobleness."  This  strong  man, 
who  feared  neither  the  wrath  of  God  nor  of  men, 
but  dreaded  lest  he  be  untrue  to  either,  had  the 
gentleness  of  a  woman.  His  great  heart  of  sym- 
pathy, which  led  him  to  demand  humanness  of 


364  THEODORE  PARKER 

religion,  made  him  unspeakably  tender  to  the  sor-| 
rows  and  troubles  of  men|  From  far-off  Indiana 
came  a  letter  from  a  Quaker  whom  he  had  never 
seen.  "Dear  Theodore, —  We  are  just  returned 
from  the  funeral  of  our  child,  and  our  hearts  turn 
first  to  thee  for  sympathy."  To  countless  souls 
he  was  as  a  friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a 
brother.  He  had  toys  and  pet  names  for  the 
children  ;  and  "when  he  went  lecturing  there  were 
never  so  many  books  stuffed  in  his  grip-sack  to  be 
read  on  the  train  but  that  a  nook  was  found  for  a 
little  bag  of  candy  whereby  fretful  children  were 
beguiled,  while  tired  mothers  got  their  sweetness 
in  the  sympathy  of  the  unknown  friend  pleading 
with  them  to  suffer  the  little  children  to  come 
unto  him."  All  of  this,  and  the  rest,  of  which 
time  would  fail  me  to  speak,  was  the  efflorescence 
of  his  profoundly  religious  and  devotional  life. 
Prayer  was  to  him  his  vital  breath.  It  came  nat- 
urally and  easily  from  a  heart  always  ready,  al- 
ways overflowing.  It  meant  so  much  to  him  that 
he  prayed  to  God  as  our  "  Father  and  Mother." 
Miss  Alcott  speaks  of  the  prayer  in  the  first  pub- 
lic service  of  his  which  she  ever  attended.  "  It 
was  unlike  any  prayer  I  had  ever  heard, —  not 
cold  and  formal,  as  if  uttered  from  a  sense  of 
duty  ;  not  a  display  of  eloquence,  nor  an  impious 
directing  of  Deity  in  his  duties  toward  humanity. 


THEODORE    PARKER  365 

It  was  a  quiet  talk  with  God,  as  if  long  inter- 
course and  much  love  had  made  it  natural  and 
easy  for  the  son  to  seek  the  Father  —  confessing 
faults,  asking  help,  and  submitting  all  things  to 
the  All-wise  and  tender  —  as  freely  as  children 
bring  their  little  sorrows,  hopes,  and  fears  to  their 
mother^s  knee." 

It  was  "natural":  that  was  the  key-note  of 
Theodore  Parker's  life  and  work.  With  all  the 
wealth  of  his  marvellous  learning,  he  was  not  an 
originator.  His  knowledge  tended  to  fortify 
and  explain  his  own  inner  life  rather  than  to 
furnish  material  for  an  enduring  system  of  phi- 
losophy. Parker's  great  service  was  to  furnish 
a  life  in  which  religion  was  fervidly  dominant 
and  vitally  real.  He  was  a  man  who  thought, 
indeed ;  but,  more  than  that,  he  was  a  man  who 
lived.  His  example  was  almost  as  powerful  as 
his  word  to  render  religion  natural.  His  work 
was  sorely  needed  at  that  time.  Such  work  will 
be  sorely  needed  again.  But  just  in  proportion  as 
a  man  is  so  vividly  necessary  to  his  own  day 
must  his  greatest  worth  be  limited  to  that  day. 
The  brightness  of  his  career  is  a  lastingly  lumi- 
nous spot ;  but,  after  all,  it  is  a  spot,  not  a 
universal  illumination.  This  does  not  mean  that 
we  of  this  later  time  cannot  read  his  words  with 
profit,    and    from    them     receive    new    impetus 


266  THEODORE    PARKER 

toward  everything  that  is  highest  and  best.  We 
can  do  so:  men  will  always  do  so  —  in  some 
degree.  The  record  of  his  life  will  strengthen 
the  purpose  and  fitness  of  other  men  to  repeat 
his  work  when  the  need  again  appears ;  but  his 
work  was  not  such  as  to  make  forever  impossible 
the  appearance  of  that  new  need.  Some  day  the 
exigencies  of  the  religious  life  will  demand  that 
some  one  else  shall  stand  up  and  say,  "  The  old 
is  done  away :  all  things  are  become  new."  But 
the  prophet  who  in  that  day  shall  be  anointed  to 
his  mighty  task  will  find  his  work  cheerier,  his 
heart  braver,  his  spirit  kept  more  sweet,  because 
yesterday  Theodore  Parker  lived  so  well,  battled 
so  strongly,  and  conquered  so  gloriously  for  the 
humanizing  of  religion. 


XI 

Phillips  Brooks  and  the  Unity  of  the  Spirit 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS  AND  THE  UNITY 
OF  THE  SPIRIT. 

The  profound  feeling  in  regard  to  the  char- 
acter and  unique  influence  of  Phillips  Brooks  has 
found  expression  in  a  great  variety  of  public 
utterances.  The  accounts  and  descriptions  of 
his  life  and  work  are  so  admirable  and  abundant, 
and  derived  from  such  a  variety  of  sources,  that 
I  may  confine  myself  to-day  to  a  single  aspect 
of  his  career.  I  shall  not  attempt  even  the 
merest  outline  of  a  biographical  review.  I  shall 
not  undertake  to  analyze  his  character  or  thought. 
He  was,  undoubtedly,  the  greatest  American 
preacher  of  his  generation.  Beecher  and  Moody 
may  have  aroused  more  immediate  popular  inter- 
est ;  but  the  great  hterature  that  has  grown  up 
about  Phillips  Brooks,  the  unprecedented  circu- 
lation of  his  printed  sermons,  as  well  as  the  im- 
mediate response  of  the  thronging  congregations 
that  hung  upon  his  words,  give  ample  testimony 
to  his  wide-spread  influence  and  fame.  The 
secret  of  his  power  was  in  his  vital  sympathy, 
his  large  humanity.  We  do  not  think  of  him 
to-day  as  a  theologian  or  as  a  church  dignitary. 
We  think  of  him  as  the  embodiment  of  all  that 


370  PHILLIPS   BROOKS 

is  lofty  in  human  character.  As  in  physical  stat- 
ure he  overlooked  us  all,  so  his  moral  and  spir- 
itual proportions  were"  exceptional.  His  com- 
manding figure  was  the  fit  symbol  of  a  generous 
and  magnanimous  nature.  His  preaching  was 
not  controversial  or  critical.  He  did  not  deny 
or  attack.  He  rarely  fell  into  doctrinal  discus- 
sions. He  seldom  tried  to  argue.  He  cheered 
and  persuaded  his  hearers,  and  never  tried  to 
threaten  or  humiliate  them.  He  had  an  over- 
mastering consciousness  of  the  love  of  God  and 
a  deep  compassion  for  his  fellow-men.  To 
quicken  in  their  hearts  his  sense  of  the  divine 
love,  to  so  quicken  it  that  it  should  be  a  strength 
in  sorrow  and  in  joy,  a  constructive  energy  build- 
ing up  Christian  character,  a  dynamic  impelling 
to  public-spirited  activity,  that  was  "  the  Father's 
business  in  which  he  had  a  partnership.'* 

Because  he  set  forth  no  dogmatic  formulas, 
men  have  supposed,  and  often  said,  that  he  was 
not  a  theologian.  But  I  think  it  can  be  justly 
replied  that  no  man  was  ever  a  great  preacher 
without  having  great  convictions.  "  No  preach- 
ing " —  we  read  in  the  "  Lectures  on  Preach- 
ing"— "ever  had  any  strong  power  that  was  not 
the  preaching  of  doctrine."  He  did  not  indeed 
present  a  special  system  of  doctrine  or  preach 
Christianity  in  philosophic   form.      He  was  not 


PHILLIPS   BROOKS  371 

so  much  interested  in  the  discovery  of  truth  as  in 
the  application  of  truth.  Apart  from  his  inheri- 
tances and  the  pressure  of  his  immediate  envi- 
ronment, the  strongest  professional  influence  that 
he  acknowledged  was  that  of  Frederick  Denison 
Maurice;  and  Maurice  was  theologically  "an 
impersonated  fog."  Dr.  Donald  has  said  that 
the  theology  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  that  of 
Horace  Bushnell,  and  that  statement  is  readily 
verifiable.  With  Bushnell  he  represented  the 
transitional  period  in  the  theological  movement 
of  the  last  half  of  the  nineteenth  century.  He 
was  not  an  innovator.  He  accepted  certain  in- 
terpretations of  the  universe  which  appealed  to 
his  temperament,  and  he  concerned  himself  in 
making  these  teachings  fruitful  and  helpful  in 
daily  life.  He  does  not  appear  to  have  had  more 
than  a  languid  interest  in  the  investigations  into 
the  authenticity  and  authorship  of  the  Biblical 
books.  Philosophical  speculations  about  the  re- 
lation of  the  natural  and  supernatural  passed 
him  by.  His  mental  make-up  did  not  lead  him 
to  become  interested  in  these  themes.  Yet  he 
was  an  indefatigable  student,  widely  read,  much 
travelled.  He  absorbed  stores  of  knowledge  from 
his  surroundings.  He  drew  strength  from  na- 
ture, history,  poetry,  and  human  experience,  and 
with  indescribable  skill  w^orked  over  all  he  gath- 


372  PHILLIPS   BROOKS 

ered  into  material  for  sermons.  Illumined  by 
original  insight,  constructed  with  utmost  industry 
and  literary  facility,  his  sermons  are  still  an  exhil- 
arating tonic  to  an  age  wearied  with  many  per- 
plexing questionings  and  in  peril  of  overwhelm- 
ing materialism.  He  was  a  prophet  of  the  rich- 
ness of  things  both  seen  and  unseen.  He  was 
not  narrowed,  on  the  one  hand,  by  any  bondage 
to  antiquity,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  by  the  passion 
for  novelty,  which  excludes  men  from  access  to 
the  treasures  of  the  past.  He  was  not  spoiled 
by  what  he  called  "  the  silly  side  of  ministerial 
popularity  "  or  frightened  by  any  theological  or 
ecclesiastical  terrorism.  He  had  no  need  to  assert 
his  right  to  be  liberal  or  to  declare  his  independ- 
ence. He  simply  took  these  things  for  granted, 
and  went  on  his  way  rejoicing.  He  did  not  try 
to  prove  what  he  clearly  saw ;  but,  like  his  Mas- 
ter, he  held  up  the  light,  that  it  might  show  to  his 
fellow-men  the  way  to  the  more  abundant  life. 

He  liked  to  discover  the  deeper  significance  of 
ancient  and  apparently  obsolete  teachings,  and  to 
reveal  the  symbolic  and  poetic  meanings  of  old 
dogmas  which  in  their  literal  form  did  not  appeal 
to  him.  What  has  been  called  his  liberaHsm 
often  consisted  in  putting  new  meanings  into  old 
forms.  He  broadened  slowly  from  precedent  to 
precedent.      He  fulfilled  Goethe's  saying:  "He 


PHILLIPS   BROOKS  373 

who  wishes  to  have  a  useful  influence  on  his 
time  should  insult  nothing.  Let  him  not  trouble 
himself  about  what  is  absurd  :  let  him  concentrate 
his  energy  on  this, —  the  bringing  to  light  of  good 
things.  He  is  bound  not  to  overthrow,  but  to 
build  up."  Phillips  Brooks  thus  kept  himself 
with  entire  integrity  in  the  currents  of  the 
conservative  liberalism  of  a  select  communion, 
which  he  devotedly  loved  and  happily  served; 
but  all  the  time  he  felt  himself  in  vital  sympathy 
with  historic  Christianity,  with  "the  glorious 
company  of  the  apostles  and  the  goodly  fellow- 
ship of  the  prophets  and  the  Holy  Church 
throughout  all  the  world." 

I  do  not  think  that  it  can  be  truly  said  that 
Phillips  Brooks  added  anything  of  permanent 
value  to  the  substance  of  systematic  divinity. 
Save  by  high  example  of  great  duties  simply 
done,  he  did  not  help  to  solve  the  problem  of 
church  government  in  a  democracy.  By  the 
might  of  consecrated  manhood  and  by  pure 
healthy-mindedness,  he  lifted  all  the  standards 
of  ministerial  service ;  but  he  added  nothing 
important  to  scholarship.  The  sober  judgment 
of  the  new  generation  will  turn  aside  from  many 
of  his  mystical  conclusions ;  but  the  spirit  in 
which  he  wrought  and  the  impulse  of  his  manly 
and    noble    personality  will    remain    as    abiding 


374  PHILLIPS   BROOKS 

influences  and  blessings.  He  was  the  bearer  of 
good  tidings,  and  thousands  of  men  think  better 
of  themselves  and  more  of  their  God  because 
he  lived  and  spoke.  His  influence  was  like  a 
change  of  climate,  ^'  like  the  spring  softness  after 
the  harshness  of  a  winter  of  austere  theology." 

If,  then,  I  am  right  in  thinking  that  Phillips 
Brooks  made  no  direct  contribution  to  the 
science  of  theology  and  that  the  form  of  church 
administration  which  he  upheld  and  adorned  is 
really  foreign  to  the  spirit  of  a  democracy, 
wherein  shall  we  find  his  right  to  stand  among 
the  pioneers  of  religious  liberty  ?  What  was  his 
permanent  contribution  to  the  religious  life  of 
America  ?  The  one  message  which  rings  through 
all  the  varied  harmony  of  his  public  speech,  and 
which  found  verification  in  his  own  dealings  with 
his  fellow-men,  is  the  testimony  to  the  "  Light 
that  lighteth  every  man  that  cometh  into  the 
world."  His  words  were  a  thrilling  revelation  of 
the  present  potency  of  a  living  God.  He  taught 
that  men  might  have  a  more  abundant  life,  and 
his  very  style  caught  vitality  from  his  theme. 
The  splendid  bearing,  the  tremendous  vehemence 
of  speech,  the  absorbed  consciousness  of  the  truth 
he  was  so  eager  to  utter,  and  the  equal  uncon- 
sciousness of  self,  all  made  him  the  herald  of  the 
larger  life.     There  was  contagious  joyousness  in 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS  375 

his  preaching  and  abounding  optimism  in  his 
thought,  so  that  his  sermons  ring  with  the  refrain 
of  his  own  song :  "  Yet  in  thy  dark  streets  shin- 
eth  the  everlasting  light."  He  recognized  that 
the  source  of  all  enlightenment  and  inspiration 
is  one  and  the  same,  and  that  no  human  soul 
is  without  connection  with  the  divine  fountain. 
Amid  the  obvious  diversities  of  forms  and 
opinions  which  exist  among  Christians  it  was 
given  him  to  discern  the  underlying  faith  that  all 
hold  in  common.  Under  the  loud  jangle  of 
theological  disputation,  his  ear  caught  the  swell- 
ing strain  of  the  one  religion.  He  dared  to 
believe  that  the  faiths  of  the  heart  will,  in  the 
long  run,  be  more  than  a  match  for  the  pride  of 
dogma  and  the  distractions  of  dispute. 

This  universal  spirit  in  his  thought  found  ex- 
pression very  early  in  his  career.  Professor 
Allen,  in  his  monumental  biography,  feels  that 
the  most  remarkable  year  of  his  life  was  the 
second  year  at  the  Theological  School  at  Alex- 
andria. He  says  :  "In  no  other  year  did  he  re- 
ceive so  much  from  the  world,  from  books,  from 
life,  and  from  himself  In  no  other  year  did  he 
leave  so  marvellous  a  record  of  his  genius.  He 
had  come  to  the  full  possession  of  himself  in  the 
greatness  of  his  power."  Now  whoever  reads 
the  outpourings  of  his  soul  in  that  year  of  study 


2,^6  PHILLIPS   BROOKS 

cannot  fail  to  be  impressed  with  the  fact  that  he 
had  already  transcended  sectarian  distinctions. 
The  records  in  his  journal,  the  writing  out  of  the 
thoughts  that  burned  within  him,  have  all  the 
ethical  sensibility,  the  spiritual  imagination,  the 
power  of  expression,  which  characterized  his  ma- 
turer  years  ;  but,  above  all  else,  they  have  what 
I  have  called  a  universal  quality.  No  one  could 
tell  whether  these  writings  came  from  an  Episco- 
palian, a  Unitarian,  or  a  Friend,  or  even  whether 
they  were  of  Christian  or  Hebrew  origin.  Yet 
everything  is  in  them  that  made  his  final  thought 
most  helpful  and  profound.  They  are  the  trans- 
lation of  his  own  thought  and  spiritual  experience 
into  terms  of  universal  application. 

What  a  rebuke  there  is  for  all  bigotry  and  nar- 
rowness in  the  words,  "  Let  us  reverence  our 
neighbor's  way  of  finding  truth,"  or,  "  Until  we 
have  learned  the  universal  language  of  sympathy, 
how  may  we  hope  to  speak  so  that  all  may  hear 
us  ? "  He  carried  that  spirit  through  all  his 
hurried,  lonely  life.  In  every  man  and  every 
religious  movement  he  found  ^^  seeds  of  Christ  " 
which  under  no  conceivable  circumstance  could 
lose  the  possibility  of  germination.  Phillips 
Brooks  held  to  the  faith  of  his  own  Church,  and 
yet  he  neither  believed,  nor  wished  men  to  think 
that  he  believed,  that  his  Church  was  the  only 


PHILLIPS   BROOKS  377 

manifestation  of  the  life  of  Christ  on  earth. 
How  clearly  I  recall  my  own  conversations  with 
him  when  in  that  turmoil  of  spirit  which  comes 
to  many  a  young  man  as  he  tries  to  choose  his 
life's  career !  In  all  my  talks  with  him  about  the 
possibility  of  my  becoming  a  minister,  he  never 
once  suggested  that  I  could  be  anything  but  a 
minister  of  the  Church  into  which  I  was  born ; 
and  he  had  just  as  much  sympathy  with  me  in 
my  hopes  and  purposes  as  if  I  had  been  a  com- 
municant of  his  Church.  How  he  gloried  in  the 
rectitude  and  fortitude  of  his  Puritan  forefathers  ! 
How  he  rejoiced  in  the  free  spirit  of  his  Unita- 
rian neighbors  and  friends  !  How  his  heart  was 
moved  by  the  appeals  of  Moody  or  the  philan- 
thropy of  the  Salvation  Army !  No  movement 
of  the  human  spirit  toward  God  was  without  his 
sympathy.  He  loved  his  own,  but  he  loved  also 
those  of  other  names,  for  they  were  all  the  chil- 
dren of  one  God ;  and  outside  of  all  the  boun- 
daries of  the  churches,  beyond  the  confines  of 
Christianity  itself,  his  great  spirit  roamed,  "  to 
welcome  the  beginnings  of  day  in  the  twilight  of 
heathenism."  Did  he  not  unconsciously  describe 
himself  when  he  said  of  James  Freeman  Clarke : 
^'  He  belonged  to  the  whole  Church  of  Christ. 
Through  him  his  Master  spoke  to  all  who  had 
ears  to  hear.     It  is  a  beautiful,  a  solemn  moment 


378  PHILLIPS   BROOKS 

when  the  city,  the  church,  the  world,  gathers  up 
the  completeness  of  a  finished  life  like  his,  and 
thanks  God  for  it,  and  places  it  in  the  shrine  of 
memory,  a  power  and  a  revelation  thenceforth  so 
long  as  the  city  and  church  and  world  shall  last "  ? 
Or  hear  what  Bishop  Lawrence  said  of  him  in 
the  noble  address  which  is,  on  the  whole,  the 
most  satisfying  short  account  of  his  great  prede- 
cessor's thought  and  service :  "  He  was  claimed, 
and  by  right,  as  the  spiritual  guide  of  people  of 
all  churches  and  of  no  church.  His  message  and 
influence  passed  over  all  denominational  bounda- 
ries. No  one  church  can  claim  him  as  exclusively 
hers.  He  belonged  to  the  Christian  world  of  the 
nineteenth  century." 

In  this  proclamation  of  what  he  would  call 
"  the  universal  Christ,"  I  repeat,  is  to  be  found 
the  enduring  influence  of  Phillips  Brooks.  In  a 
measure  it  was  the  reaffirmation  of  Channing's 
doctrine  of  the  dignity  of  human  nature,  or  of 
Emerson's  gospel  of  the  immanence  of  Deity  ;  but 
it  was  these  teachings  expressed  in  the  phrases 
of  Christian  piety.  ^'  The  essence  of  Christian 
faith,"  he  said,  ^*  is  not  the  inspiration  of  the 
Bible,  not  the  election  of  certain  souls  or  the  per- 
dition of  other  souls,  not  the  length  of  man's  pun- 
ishment, not  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  but  sim- 
ply this, —  the  testimony  of  the  divine  in  man  to 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS  379 

the  divine  in  man,  that  lifts  up  the  man  and  says, 
'  For  me  to  be  brutal  is  unmanly,  to  be  divine  is 
to  be  my  true  self.'  "  Read  again  the  marvellous 
sermon  on  "  The  Light  of  the  World,"  which, 
with  the  persuasiveness  which  rarely  illustrates 
Cicero's  definition  of  true  eloquence  as  of  the 
nature  of  virtue,  reaffirms  the  essential  teaching 
of  Channing.  "  In  so  far,"  he  declared,  "as  man 
is  not  God's,  he  is  not  truly  man.  Whatever  he 
does  in  his  true  human  nature,  undistorted,  un- 
perverted,  is  divinely  done."  Or  read  again  the 
sermon  on  "The  Eternal  Humanity,"  wherein 
is  set  forth  "  the  nativeness  of  righteousness  in 
man  "  :  "  Redemption  is  the  perfection  of  hu- 
manity on  its  own  human  lines.  Eternal  life  is 
the  deepening  of  the  present  life,  and  not  merely 
its  substitute  by  another  life."  What  clear  and 
luminous  reflection  of  Emerson  is  in  these  words  : 
"  All  this  change  from  the  arbitrary  to  the  essen- 
tial in  religion  has  its  connection  with  the  other 
habits  of  our  nature,  with  its  love  of  physical 
science  and  its  study  of  nature  and  her  laws.  .  .  . 
It  chooses  to  look  at  God,  not  as  a  fitful  Omnip- 
otence, choosing  each  hour's  colors  by  each  hour's 
whims ;  but  as  essential  law,  in  whom  all  things 
move  by  moral  necessities,  which  he  cannot 
change  unless  he  changes  himself  and  is  no 
longer  God  "  ! 


38o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

The  lectures  on  Tolerance  contain  the  clearest 
and  most  ample  statement  of  Phillips  Brooks's 
convictions  on  these  themes,  though  the  spirit  in 
which  the  lectures  were  written  can  be  traced 
throughout  all  his  printed  words.  "  That  little 
book,"  said  his  biographer,  Professor  Allen,  "  is 
a  very  personal  one ;  for  he  was  vindicating  his 
own  position,  his  mental  freedom,  his  superiority 
to  narrow  sectarian  lines,  his  wide  sympathies, 
his  own  tolerance  for  all  sincere  and  earnest 
thought.  He  was  guarding  himself  against  be- 
ing travestied  and  misdescribed,  either  by  bigotry, 
on  the  one  hand,  or  what  is  called  'free  thought,' 
on  the  other.  His  tone  is  at  times  tender  and 
pathetic.  He  was  gentle  and  kind ;  for  he  had 
adversaries  to  conciliate,  if  possible.  He  knew 
that  his  position  was  a  difficult  one  to  maintain; 
but  he  was  determined  to  make  it  clear,  and  to 
enforce  and  recommend  it  by  the  fascination  of 
his  eloquence  and  his  wide  observation  and  ex- 
perience of  life.  He  took  for  his  text,  if  we 
may  call  it  so,  a  passage  from  the  writings  of 
Maurice,  which  he  admits  sounds  like  a  paradox, 
but  will  come  to  be  an  axiom, — *  It  is  the  natural 
feeling  of  all  that  charity  is  founded  upon  the 
uncertainty  of  truth.  I  believe  that  it  is  founded 
on  the  certainty  of  truth.'  " 

Tolerance,  that  is,  is  the  result  of  a  belief,  not 


PHILLIPS   BROOKS  381 

of  absence  of  belief.     It  is   not  shallowness,  but 
depth  of  conviction,  that  produces  the  charitable 
temper.     True    fellowship    must    recognize   the 
value  of  antagonisms,  and  seek  the  unity  that  lies 
beneath  and  not  above  the  puzzling  questions  of 
spiritual  experience.     The  advice  to  give  a  bigot 
that  you  want  to  make  liberal  is  not,  "  Hold  your 
special  form  of  faith  loosely  and  make  less  of  it," 
but  "  Hold  your  special  form  of  faith  more  deeply 
and  make  more  of  it."     If  we   can  all   learn  to 
hold  our  different  forms  of  faith  largely  enough 
and  vitally  enough,  we  shall  find   that  they  are 
not  walls   to  separate   us  from   one  another,  but 
rather  avenues  through  which  we  may  enter  into 
sympathy  and  comradeship. 

How  impossible  it  was  for  any  man  to   isolate 
himself  from  the  abundant  sympathy  and  help- 
fulness of  this  magnanimous  nature  !     He  habitu- 
ally   emphasized    the    virtues    of   his    neighbors. 
He   had  a  generous  confidence  in   another  man's 
motives  and  purposes,  and  a  scrupulous  care  for 
the    reputation    of    every    comrade.     While    his 
mind  was   thus   given   to  hospitality,   there    was 
nothing   weakly    amiable   in    him.     He    was    no 
mush  of  concession.     His  denominational  back- 
bone was  straight  and  strong.     He  was  perfectly 
ready  for  a  good  intellectual  fight.     He  did  not 
propose,  for  the   sake  of  what  is   expedient,  to 


382  PHILLIPS   BROOKS 

give  up  what  is  right.  He  made  the  necessary 
distinction  between  the  inevitable  and  wholesome 
differences  of  self-reliant  men  and  the  perennial 
disposition  to  censoriousness.  He  recognized 
that  there  are  conflicts  of  opinion  which  are 
signs  of  mental  activity  and  moral  integrity. 
He  did  not  undervalue  them  ;  but,  when  divis- 
ion was  seen  to  spring  from  prejudice  or  pride 
or  envy,  when  it  resulted  in  a  resolution  to 
deprive  others  of  the  freedom  which  all  should 
enjoy,  then  he  burst  out  in  righteous  indigna- 
tion. He  knew  well  enough  that  thorough  and 
painstaking  investigation  will  often  lead  honest 
minds  to  dissimilar  conclusions.  But  at  the 
same  time  he  knew  how  to  denounce  divisions 
arising  out  of  contentions.  He  deplored,  not 
the  necessarily  diverse  aspects  of  Christian  truth, 
but  the  division  of  Christian  energy  of  which  the 
enemies  of  public  righteousness  everywhere  take 
advantage.  He  deplored  the  waste  of  Chris- 
tian force,  not  the  many-sidedness  of  Christian 
conviction. 

Tolerant  to  the  uttermost  as  he  was,  I  venture 
to  say  that  the  hardest  thing  for  him  to  tolerate 
was  the  growth  of  the  sacerdotal  tendencies  in 
his  own  communion.  It  is  a  curiosity  of  ecclesi- 
astical nomenclature  that  what  in  these  new  days 
is  self-called  '^  catholicity  "  appears  to  be  identical 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS  383 

with  intolerance.  He  is  supposed  to  be  the  best 
"  Catholic  "  and  the  most  loyal  "  Churchman  " 
who  turns  his  back  most  contemptuously  on  his 
Christian  brethren  who  are  not  of  the  Angli- 
can persuasion.  Phillips  Brooks  committed  the 
crime,  unpardonable  in  the  eyes  of  the  new  Phari- 
saism, of  regarding  his  fellow  Christians  of  other 
allegiances  as  no  less  honest,  no  less  precious  in 
the  sight  of  God,  than  EpiscopaHans.  He  did 
not  have  to  apologize  for  the  horribly  democratic 
saying,  ''Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  to- 
gether in  my  name,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of 
them."  To  quote  Dean  Farrar,  "  Wherever  he 
saw  the  fruits  of  the  spirit,  he  was  convinced  of 
the  presence  of  the  spirit ;  and  no  loud  assertion 
made  him  believe  that  the  spirit  was  present  in 
factions  w^hich  yield  only  the  fruits  of  bitterness 
and  are  chiefly  conspicuous  for  the  broad  phylac- 
teries of  uncharitable  arrogance."  When  the  at- 
tempt was  made  to  change  the  name  of  the 
Protestant  Episcopal  Church  and  call  it  the 
Church  of  America,  how  Brooks  flamed  out  in 
scornful  indignation  !  He  was  a  Protestant  Epis- 
copalian, wuth  the  emphasis  on  the  Protestant. 
He  had  no  patience  with  those  who  depreciated 
the  heroes  of  the  Reformation.  The  superb  lect- 
ure on  Luther  gave  no  comfort  to  the  extreme 
Cathohc  party.     He  did  not  claim  any  particular 


384  PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

sanctity  for  Episcopacy.  He  believed  in  the  his- 
toric Episcopate  because  he  thought  it  a  good 
form  of  church  government,  justified  by  its  utility. 
The  doctrine  of  the  apostolic  succession  was,  he 
said,  "  a  doctrine  of  magic,  not  a  doctrine  of  re- 
ligion." It  is  a  great  temptation  to  me  to  quote 
some  of  the  saucy  things  he  said  about  the  pom- 
pous ways  and  stupid  decorum  of  bishops.  He 
was  always  poking  fun  at  ecclesiastical  millinery 
and  clerical  pretensions.  He  exploded  many  a 
gas-bag  with  a  pointed  jest.  But  to  speak  of 
these  things  now  might  misrepresent  the  serious- 
ness of  Phillips  Brooks's  message  and  the  large 
charity  of  his  heart. 

Our  understanding  of  Phillips  Brooks-'s  spirit 
will,  however,  be  incomplete  if  we  fail  to  recog- 
nize his  attitude  toward  what  is  called  Ortho- 
doxy. Dr.  Crothers,  who  now  most  completely 
represents  in  our  community  the  genuine  catho- 
licity which  Brooks  exemplified,  has  recently 
called  attention  to  the  peril  of  conventionalizing 
our  heroes.  It  is  the  fate  of  great  men  to  be  mis- 
understood in  proportion  as  they  are  admired, 
and  the  result  of  idealizing  is  often  the  elimina- 
tion of  some  very  essential  characteristics.  We 
must  not  forget  that  to  Phillips  Brooks's  contempt 
for  priestcraft  was  joined  a  very  thorough-going 
distrust  of  any  orthodoxy  whatsoever.     The  non- 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS  385 

conformist  conscience  was  his  New  England  birth- 
right, and  it  was  always  strong  in  him.  Did  it 
not  find  expression  when  he  said,  "  We  find  that 
the  lower  orders  of  the  Church's  workers,  the 
mere  runners  of  her  machinery,  have  always  been 
strictly  and  scrupulously  orthodox,  while  all  the 
Church's  noblest  servants,  they  who  have  opened 
to  her  new  heavens  of  vision  and  new  domains 
of  work  —  Paul,  Origen,  TertuUian,  Abelard, 
Luther,  Milton,  Coleridge,  Maurice,  Sweden- 
borg,  Martineau  —  have  been  persecuted  for 
being  what  they  truly  were,  unorthodox"?  In 
such  a  heterodox  saying  as  that  —  oft  repeated  in 
different  forms  —  or  in  the  genuinely  iconoclastic 
utterances  of  the  essay  on  Orthodoxy  may  be 
found  ample  justification  for  the  feeling  among 
the  more  conservative  members  of  his  own  de- 
nomination that  he  was  essentially  a  heretic. 
"Orthodoxy  in  the  Church,"  he  said,  "is  very 
much  what  prejudice  is  in  the  single  mind.  It  is 
the  premature  conceit  of  certainty.  It  is  the 
treatment  of  the  imperfect  as  if  it  were  perfect." 
"  We  cannot  but  believe,"  he  said  again,  "  that 
in  the  future  the  whole  conception  of  orthodoxy 
is  destined  to  grow  less  and  less  prominent.  Less 
and  less  will  men  ask  of  any  opinion,  '  Is  it  or- 
thodox?' More  and  more  will  they  ask,  'Is  it 
true?'.  .  .  Is  not  the  sum  of  the  whole  matter 


386  PHILLIPS    BROOKS 

this, —  that  orthodoxy,  as  a  principle  of  action  or 
a  standard  of  belief,  is  obsolete  and  dead?  It  is 
not  that  the  substance  of  orthodoxy  has  been  al- 
tered, but  that  the  very  principle  of  orthodoxy 
has  been  essentially  disowned.  It  is  not  conceiv- 
able that  any  council,  however  ecumenically  con- 
stituted, should  so  pronounce  on  truth  that  its 
decrees  should  have  any  weight  with  thinking- 
men  save  what  might  seem  legitimately  to  belong 
to  the  character  and  wisdom  of  the  persons  who 
composed  the  council.  Personal  judgment  is  on 
the  throne,  and  will  remain  there,-^  personal 
judgment,  enlightened  by  all  the  wisdom,  past 
and  present,  which  it  can  summon  to  its  aid,  but 
forming  finally  its  own  conclusions,  and  standing 
by  them  in  the  sight  of  God,  whether  it  stands 
in  a  great  company  or  stands  alone.'*  That  is 
the  tone  of  a  radical  reformer.  Theodore  Parker 
would  not  have  said  it  more  drastically.  No 
wonder  that  men  who  believed  that  their  church 
really  had  a  "deposit"  of  final  truth  looked 
upon  the  man  who  was  capable  of  making  such 
utterances  as  a  dangerous  person. 

I  cannot  discover  that  Phillips  Brooks  found 
any  satisfaction  in  the  appeals  for  Christian  union 
which  are  commonly  urged  in  this  generation, 
whether  from  the  Vatican  or  from  Lambeth  Pal- 
ace.    All  these  appeals  assume  that  the  dissen- 


PHILLIPS    BROOKS  387 

sions  of  Christendom  are  to  be  healed  by  theo- 
logical sticking  plasters.  Phillips  Brooks  knew 
that  true  Christian  fellowship  cannot  be  secured 
on  the  basis  of  intellectual  agreements.  The 
old  way  was  to  force  men  into  Christian  federa- 
tion by  authority.  Phillips  Brooks  would  have 
us  try  the  method  of  complete  freedom  of 
thought  and  expression,  and  seek  the  brotherhood 
of  mutual  service.  He  knew  that  true  unity  is 
not  a  matter  of  organization  or  government  or 
doctrine,  ritual,  phrase,  or  name.  Instead  of 
lamenting  the  differences  among  men,  he  thanked 
God  for  the  variety  and  fulness  of  human  thought 
and  life.  He  did  not  look  for  uniformity,  for 
uniformity  is  found  only  in  things  that  are  dead. 
It  is  because  men  have  life  that  they  differ.  The 
seeds  of  wide  differences  in  adult  life  appear  in 
the  nursery  of  every  home.  Why  should  they 
not  appear  and  be  welcome  in  the  family  of  God  ? 
The  variety  of  men's  occupations  is  essential  to 
civilization.  The  diversity  of  their  opinions, — 
does  not  each  contain  some  one  aspect  of  that 
many-sided  truth  which  as  yet  is  too  vast  for  any 
one  individual  or  group  to  grasp  ?  All  society  is 
made  up  of  co-operating  diversities ;  and,  the 
more  perfect  the  society,  the  more  widely  those 
who  compose  it  vary  in  the  direction  of  their  gifts 
and  faculties  and  accomplishments.     Limit  us  to 


388  PHILLIPS    BROOKS 

men  of  the  same  intentions  and  thoughts,  and  we 
become  simply  repetitions  of  one  type.  Give  us 
free  access  to  each  new  manifestation  of  God  in 
one  another's  consciousness,  and  we  partake  of 
the  inexhaustible  riches  of  the  divine  nature. 
Phillips  Brooks  dared  to  believe  the  word  of  the 
apostle :  "  There  are  diversities  of  gifts,  but  the 
same  spirit ;  diversities  of  administration,  but  the 
same  Lord ;  diversities  of  operation,  but  it  is 
the  same  God  that  worketh  all  in  all,  and  his 
own  manifestation  of  the  spirit  is  given  to  each 
for  the  profit  of  all,  that  by  the  effectual  working 
in  the  measure  of  each  part  the  whole  may  be 
made  perfect.'* 

Let,  then,  the  sects  do  their  work,  and  have 
God's  blessing  in  doing  it.  No  one  wants 
churches  shorn  of  individuality.  Wise  men 
do  not  war  against  diversities :  they  rather  try 
to  enter  into  sympathetic  understanding  of 
the  special  truth  each  household  of  faith  has 
inherited  or  achieved.  Phillips  Brooks  vent- 
ured to  hope  that,  with  little  or  no  diminu- 
tion of  the  present  multiplicity  of  sects,  we 
may  come  into  an  ever-larger  sympathy,  each 
cultivating  his  own  little  garden  with  loving  and 
assiduous  care,  but  each  rejoicing  in  the  oth- 
ers* flowers  and  fruit,  not  always  harping  on 
their  barrenness  and  weeds  ;    loyal    to    our  own 


PHILLIPS    BROOKS  389 

traditions,  reverent  of  the  traditions  and  usages 
that  our  neighbors  cherish. 

Starr  King  once  used  an  analogy  that  aptly 
illustrates  the  teaching  of  Phillips  Brooks.  He 
likened  the  diversities  of  the  religious  world  to 
the  stops  of  an  organ.  The  church  is  one, 
like  the  organ :  it  is  diverse  and  broken,  like 
the  ranges  of  its  pipes.  The  sects  are  the 
stops.  The  value  of  each  stop  is  that  it  breathes 
out  and  modulates,  with  more  or  less  compass, 
a  certain  pervading  quality  of  tone.  Some  stops 
cannot  be  used  together  without  painful  discord ; 
but,  if  more  stops  are  added,  they  may  broaden 
and  enrich  the  harmony.  Some  stops  are  nar- 
row in  their  range  or  give  no  sweeping,  rounded 
tone;  some,  like  the  Methodist  stop,  waken, 
when  it  is  drawn,  the  emotional  life ;  some,  like 
the  Calvinistic,  shake  the  air  with  the  mutter- 
ings  of  judgment  and  the  vibrations  of  the 
law.  One  might,  however,  readily  be  led  away 
by  this  analogy.  Of  course,  no  one  would 
assert  that  the  hostile  dogmas  of  different  sects 
are  necessary  to  the  completeness  and  unity 
of  Christian  truth.  A  dozen  intellectual  contra- 
dictions cannot  combine  into  catholic  verity. 
But  the  sentiments  which  different  churches 
stand  for  and  work  out,  though  they  may  be 
connected  with  doctrines   that  are  to  many  un- 


390  PHILLIPS    BROOKS 

congenial,  are  essential  to  the  fulness  of  re- 
ligious truth.  Churches  and  sects  exist  by  and 
for  the  sentiments  they  appeal  to  and  feed. 

While,  then,  Phillips  Brooks  rejected  almost 
contemptuously  the  mechanical  schemes  of 
church  union  that  are  noisily  proclaimed,  he 
did,  in  the  chaos  of  disunited  independent  sects 
which  now  make  up  the  Protestant  fellowship, 
discern  the  possibility  of  a  genuine  unity.  A 
Protestant  Christian  in  these  days,  however 
sympathetic  his  own  temper,  is  practically  shut 
up  within  the  fold  of  a  sect,  which,  if  liberal,  is 
excluded  by  all  the  rest,  and  which,  if  illiberal, 
excludes  all  others.  Phillips  Brooks  did  not  try 
to  say,  "  Lo  here,  lo  there,  the  Church  "  ;  but  he 
did  declare  the  essential  characteristics  of  the 
Holy  Catholic  Church,  to  which  he  daily  con- 
fessed his  allegiance.  His  quadrilateral  was  not 
that  of  Lambeth ;  but  it  was  practically  the  quad- 
rilateral of  principles  set  forth  by  a  more  logical 
and  constructive  mind  than  his  own,  that  of  Dr. 
Frederic  Henry  Hedge.  First,  a  root  in  the 
past,  a  sense  of  continuity,  a  pledge  of  perpetuity. 
A  catholic  church  must  have  —  that  is  its  con- 
servative side  —  some  abiding  rock  upon  which 
to  build  its  faith,  some  distinct  starting-point  for 
its  spiritual  life  and  influence.  Second,  such  a 
church  must  invite  variety  and  practise  freedom. 


PHILLIPS    BROOKS  391 

It  must  be  plastic  enough  in  doctrine  and  dis- 
cipline to  allow  of  change  and  growth.  It  must 
not  assume  the  infallibility  that  breeds  exclusive- 
nesSj  or  seek  to  confine  Christianity  forever  to 
special  formulas.  Christianity,  though  bound  to 
a  common  ideal  and  certain  unchanging  facts  of 
experience,  is  not  a  fixture,  but  a  movement,  not 
a  divinely  established  system  of  doctrines  and 
institutions,  but  a  flowing  administration  of  the 
spirit  in  such  forms  and  aspects  as  each  successive 
generation  requires.  Third,  the  true  Catholic 
Church  must  welcome  and  emphasize  that  spirit 
which  we  best  define  under  the  term  "  mysticism," 
that  element  in  religion  which  lays  hold  of  un- 
seen and  eternal  realities,  and  enters  into  com- 
munion with  a  spiritual  world.  It  is  the  mystic 
element  in  Christianity,  represented  by  Thomas 
a  Kempis  and  Tauler  and  the  Quakers  and 
Emerson  and  Brooks  himself  and  all  the  poets, 
which  keeps  the  heavens  open  and  the  soul 
awake  and  life  divine.  And,  fourth,  the  Holy 
Cathohc  Church  requires  some  external  organiza- 
tion. Such  organization  must  be  spontaneous, 
and  never  too  rigid  ;  but  a  Church  without  such 
corporate  organization  and  without  symbols  is 
an  impossibility.  The  religious  sentiment,  to  be 
sure,  is  eternal ;  but,  if  allowed  to  remain  unfixed 
and  unexpressed,  it  may  become  an  evil  rather 


392  PHILLIPS    BROOKS 

than  a  good.  It  preserves  its  identity  by  means 
of  outward  symbols.  It  craves  stated  expression 
and  common  rights.  It  requires  some  corporate 
organism  for  its  preservation.  The  spirit  seeks 
some  letter  in  which  to  utter  itself.  Stability, 
freedom,  idealism,  organization, —  these  are  the 
cardinal  constituents  of  the  Church  Universal, 
to  which,  we  must  add,  as  the  complement  and 
ground  of  all,  the  charity  which  binds  and  per- 
vades and  harmonizes,  the  love  which  is  the  su- 
preme grace  of  the  Christian  dispensation.  This 
is  an  entrancing  vision  to  those  of  us  who  are 
involved  in  the  perplexities  and  bickerings  and 
petty  jealousies  of  modern  Protestantism. 

The  inclusiveness  of  this  vision  found  ideal 
representation  in  the  personality  of  Bishop 
Brooks.  His  character,  like  his  thought,  was 
rich  in  many  varied  qualities.  As  he  said  of 
Maurice,  he  was  at  once  moralist  and  mystic. 
Like  all  men  of  great  influence,  he  was  an  idealist 
and  optimist  and  at  the  same  time  a  judicious, 
successful  man  of  business,  whose  feet  were  firmly 
planted  on  mother  earth.  There  was  the  quick 
poetic  sensibility  allied  with  the  power  to  centre 
the  whole  attention  on  the  simplest  details. 
Prophetic  gifts  were  united  in  him  with  great 
executive  power.  There  was  the  deep  love  of 
all  humanity  and  the  capacity  to  make  each  indi- 


PHILLIPS    BROOKS  393 

vidual  his  friend.  Bubbling  over  with  fun,  he 
still  had  deep  reserves ;  always  courteous  and 
cordial,  but  of  rare  personal  reticence.  It  was 
not  that  he  possessed  any  one  gift  in  excess,  but 
that  he  held  together  so  many  different  gifts  in 
perfect  harmony.  The  things  which  are  so  often 
separated  in  other  men's  lives  were  wedded  in 
him.  Therein  is  found  the  largeness  of  his  per- 
sonality. This  unity  of  spirit  that  he  taught  and 
lived  was  reflected,  too,  in  the  willing  discipleship 
he  commanded.  Men  of  all  sects  and  parties 
united  in  praising,  not  opinions  and  not  theolo- 
gies, but  consecrated  manhood.  More  and  more, 
as  men  ponder  on  his  life  and  teaching,  they  real- 
ize that  the  things  that  divide  them  into  hostile 
sects  are  transient  and  insignificant  beside  the 
deep  faiths  of  the  heart  that  unite  them.  More 
and  more  they  come  to  see  that  our  theological 
systems  are  but  broken  lights  of  the  eternal,  that 
the  universal  elements  in  religion  are  the  only 
permanent  elements,  and  that  the  river  of  spirit- 
ual truth  cannot  be  made  to  flow  in  any  one 
regular  and  undeviating  channel.  With  all  neigh- 
borly associations,  and  the  common  experiences 
of  joy  and  sorrow,  and  the  common  admiration 
of  things  true  and  lovely  and  of  good  report, 
bringing  men  together,  it  will  be  hard  indeed  if 
matters  of  fallible  opinion  can  forever  keep  them 


394 


PHILLIPS    BROOKS 


apart.  More  and  more  intelligent  people  weary 
of  bigoted  partisanship.  They  begin  to  appre- 
ciate how  much  good  there  is  in  schools  of 
thought  or  forms  of  worship  alien  from  their  own. 
Men  do  not  divide  into  factions  over  the  Beati- 
tudes ;  they  do  not  contend  about  the  Golden 
Rule  ;  they  do  not  plant  their  sectarianism  on  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  or  on  that  lofty  teaching,  "  God 
is  a  spirit,  and  they  that  worship  him  must  wor- 
ship him  in  spirit  and  in  truth  "  ;  they  do  not  split 
into  warring  parties  over  the  great  conception  of 
God  the  Universal  Father,  and  all  men  brothers. 
These  are  the  conceptions  which,  so  far  from 
dividing  men,  make  men  ashamed  of  division. 
Let  us  agree  to  live  in  these  deep,  central,  vital 
matters  about  which  there  can  be  no  contention. 
In  the  hour  of  noble  resolve  or  high  aspiration 
who  now  thinks  of  the  dividing  lines  of  doctrine.? 
Theological  divisions  are  no  longer  incompatible 
with  brotherly  love  and  cordial  fellowship.  If 
we  remember  the  blessing  on  the  peacemakers,  if 
we  feel  that  preaching  wrathfully  or  bitterly 
poisons  even  truth  itself,  that  our  satisfaction  may 
be  the  Pharisee's  pride,  and  the  objects  of  our 
enmity  may  enjoy  the  Samaritan's  blessing,  then, 
surely,  the  seeming  difficulty  of  diversity  in  unity 
and  unity  in  diversity  will  cease  to  oppress  us. 
Sectarianism   and    bigotry  have    so    long   held 


PHILLIPS   BROOKS  395 

sway  that  they  will  die  hard.  You  and  I  shall  not 
live  to  see  their  fall,  but  we  may  already  see  fly- 
ing here  and  there  on  the  citadels  of  dogmatism  the 
white  flags  of  truce  and  amity.  The  new  church 
that  the  prophetic  vision  of  Channing  and  Emer- 
son and  Brooks  foresaw  and  foretold  is  already 
potent  in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  leaders  of 
the  Christian  host.  Its  name  is  not  yet  revealed. 
Its  organization  awaits  the  touch  of  the  master 
hand,  but  its  spirit  and  aspiration  are  here.  Al- 
ready it  is  true  that  the  man  who  shuts  himself 
up  in  the  close  communion  of  a  single  sect,  no 
matter  how  noisily  he  may  proclaim  that  he  alone 
belongs  to  the  Church,  is  yet  the  real  schismatic. 
His  is  the  real  isolation.  However  large  and 
strong  his  special  sect,  he  has  cut  himself  off  from 
the  greater  company  of  Christians,  the  host  of 
those  who  are  bound  together  not  by  external 
organization,  but  by  spiritual  aflinity  and  law. 
The  birthright  church  of  all  true  Christian  men 
will  yet  achieve  its  winsome  authority.  It  is 
founded  on  the  rock  of  man's  spiritual  nature. 
Its  fellowship  is  the  brotherhood  of  high  ideals 
and  reasonable  service.  Its  common  life  is  in 
the  native  and  irrepressible  tendency  of  humanity 
to  reverence  and  worship.  Its  common  thought 
is  in  the  confidence  that  underneath  are  the  ever- 
lasting arms.     This  universal  religious  conscious- 


396  PHILLIPS    BROOKS 

ness  will  yet  unite  the  hearts  of  bewildered  and 
wearied  humanity  in  the  humility  of  common 
prayer  and  praise  and  in  glad  obedience  to  the 
law  of  liberty.  It  will  move  men  to  public-spir- 
ited activity  and  deeds  of  benevolence  and  justice. 
It  will  create  its  prophets  and  preachers,  burning 
with  enthusiasm  for  truth,  its  saints  of  tender 
devotion  and  patient  service,  its  reformers  wak- 
ing men  from  dead  forms  to  new  faith  and  right- 
eousness. It  will  establish  the  true  Church  Cath- 
olic, the  church  not  of  Rome,  not  of  England, 
not  of  America,  but  the  Church  of  the  living 
God. 


COLUMBIA   UNIVERSITY   LIBR/^ 

'-  book  is  dnr  on  the  date  irt   '^ated  '    ' 


lilllllllllllllllll 

0035521821 


933.7 


P659 


938.7                    P659 

Pioneers  of  religious  liberty  in 

A>r.  erica. 

